Some other favorites are on the Drop Shots bar. The one where J is looking down would look great in B&W. Have a great Friday!
Friday, September 08, 2006
Home School Picture Day
Remember school picture day? It's been a looooooong time since we've done school pictures. I hated that they were so expensive and didn't turn out that great. So we started taking the kids to Sears, they take a fun photo and they used to mail out SUPER good coupons. $8.99 packages packages seem to be a thing of the past now though. So I thought I'd try my hand at some pictures for the quickly growing clan. Notice K's first missing tooth?
Some other favorites are on the Drop Shots bar. The one where J is looking down would look great in B&W. Have a great Friday!
Some other favorites are on the Drop Shots bar. The one where J is looking down would look great in B&W. Have a great Friday!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Another Official Post
I'm renewing my love of meal planning and once every week or two cooking. Frankly, once a month cooking has never really worked for me, and I'm OK with that. I know Gabriella used to do Freezer Food Friday, so her blog is a great place for some recipe's and ideas to get your juices flowing. I'll post a couple recipe links, but today, I'm going to focus on my method:
Break it down: Think of your month in terms of weeks. A week is really just 5 days. 5 big meals for each day of the work/school week, one day to eat left-over’s and one day to cook what you’re “in the mood” for. The beauty of creating a meal plan, is that you can re-use it indefinitely! The biggest tip I can give you is to get in a routine. Try to plan your menu, shop, and prepare foods at the same time each day, week and month. I usually don't worry too much about lunches. I buy sandwich stuff, keep mac and cheese on hand and occasionally make up a batch of chicken salad people can use during the week. Lunch kind of falls into place around here.
Get the right tools: You will need:
3X5 index cards
Pen
Calendar
Zip-lock Bags, every size from Sandwich to 2 Gallon.
Sharpie Marker
Tin Foil
Waxed Paper
Sharp knives
At least two cutting boards
Large pans/platters
Groceries!
Get a game plan!
Start with a clean kitchen. Always. If your kitchen sink is full of dishes, you will not feel like cooking and adding to the mess. Once you have a clean work area, drag out your calendar, pen, 3X5 cards and recipe box. Sit down and give yourself plenty of room. Look at your month and see where events like birthdays, late meetings and unusual circumstances fall. I recommend planning at least a week at a time, the more planning you do, the less time you’ll spend overall.
GO!: On each card, list a dish you’d like to serve for breakfast, and a meal you’d like to serve for dinner. Keep in mind your calendar needs, and realize that we are going to prepare dinner once, maybe twice, a week! The only meals you’ll make during the week will be breakfasts. For your dinners, focus on meals that will freeze and reheat well. This isn’t as difficult as it sounds. Marinated meats are a staple in our household.
Make up about 14 cards with breakfast/dinner combinations to start. As you go, use one card to make your shopping list for purchasing the groceries you’ll need.
Stick to the plan!: Whether you plan to cook and shop weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly, it pays to have at least one month worth of completed index cards. Even if you choose to go to once a month cooking, it will still payoff to spend 20-30 min each week making sure your plan is in order and you have everything on hand that you need. During your planning session, once you have several cards made up, all you have to do is re-mix the cards and you have a brand new menu!
When it’s time to go to the store, start with a clean fridge and pantry. I usually try to plan my shopping day so that I can do the bulk of my prep work when I put the groceries away. Before I leave for the store, I set up several work area’s with the recipes and equipment I’ll need when I get back, and I make sure I will have room in my fridge and freezer to store them. When I return from the store, the meats are placed in one area, the dairy products put away and I prepare the meat dishes before I put them in the fridge or freezer. I don’t always cook each one, marinated meats are dumped in a pan or put on the grill the night they are served, mini meat loaves and stuffed chicken and pork chops are individually frozen, uncooked, on waxed paper in jelly roll pans, then transferred to ziplock bags until the night before they are needed. If I make dishes where the meat is in sauce or might not freeze well, I will go ahead and cook them, then store them in ziplock bags in the fridge, and just use them early during the week.
Some recipe's to get you started:
Salisbury Steak I make this into meatballs and cook before freezing or refrigerating.
Stuffed Chicken CutletsThe dark horse I didn't expect the family to go nuts over. These are SOOOOOO good.
Pamela on Recipe Zaar Has a bunch of recipe's for OAMC, the chicken cutlets came from her, and we also loved the Honey Glazed Dump chicken.
Amish Baked Oatmeal Don't forget breakfast! I make this with regular oats instead of quick, use 25% less sugar than called for, double the amount and cook overnight on low in the crock pot. To die for. My kids think it's dessert.
Break it down: Think of your month in terms of weeks. A week is really just 5 days. 5 big meals for each day of the work/school week, one day to eat left-over’s and one day to cook what you’re “in the mood” for. The beauty of creating a meal plan, is that you can re-use it indefinitely! The biggest tip I can give you is to get in a routine. Try to plan your menu, shop, and prepare foods at the same time each day, week and month. I usually don't worry too much about lunches. I buy sandwich stuff, keep mac and cheese on hand and occasionally make up a batch of chicken salad people can use during the week. Lunch kind of falls into place around here.
Get the right tools: You will need:
3X5 index cards
Pen
Calendar
Zip-lock Bags, every size from Sandwich to 2 Gallon.
Sharpie Marker
Tin Foil
Waxed Paper
Sharp knives
At least two cutting boards
Large pans/platters
Groceries!
Get a game plan!
Start with a clean kitchen. Always. If your kitchen sink is full of dishes, you will not feel like cooking and adding to the mess. Once you have a clean work area, drag out your calendar, pen, 3X5 cards and recipe box. Sit down and give yourself plenty of room. Look at your month and see where events like birthdays, late meetings and unusual circumstances fall. I recommend planning at least a week at a time, the more planning you do, the less time you’ll spend overall.
GO!: On each card, list a dish you’d like to serve for breakfast, and a meal you’d like to serve for dinner. Keep in mind your calendar needs, and realize that we are going to prepare dinner once, maybe twice, a week! The only meals you’ll make during the week will be breakfasts. For your dinners, focus on meals that will freeze and reheat well. This isn’t as difficult as it sounds. Marinated meats are a staple in our household.
Make up about 14 cards with breakfast/dinner combinations to start. As you go, use one card to make your shopping list for purchasing the groceries you’ll need.
Stick to the plan!: Whether you plan to cook and shop weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly, it pays to have at least one month worth of completed index cards. Even if you choose to go to once a month cooking, it will still payoff to spend 20-30 min each week making sure your plan is in order and you have everything on hand that you need. During your planning session, once you have several cards made up, all you have to do is re-mix the cards and you have a brand new menu!
When it’s time to go to the store, start with a clean fridge and pantry. I usually try to plan my shopping day so that I can do the bulk of my prep work when I put the groceries away. Before I leave for the store, I set up several work area’s with the recipes and equipment I’ll need when I get back, and I make sure I will have room in my fridge and freezer to store them. When I return from the store, the meats are placed in one area, the dairy products put away and I prepare the meat dishes before I put them in the fridge or freezer. I don’t always cook each one, marinated meats are dumped in a pan or put on the grill the night they are served, mini meat loaves and stuffed chicken and pork chops are individually frozen, uncooked, on waxed paper in jelly roll pans, then transferred to ziplock bags until the night before they are needed. If I make dishes where the meat is in sauce or might not freeze well, I will go ahead and cook them, then store them in ziplock bags in the fridge, and just use them early during the week.
Some recipe's to get you started:
Salisbury Steak I make this into meatballs and cook before freezing or refrigerating.
Stuffed Chicken CutletsThe dark horse I didn't expect the family to go nuts over. These are SOOOOOO good.
Pamela on Recipe Zaar Has a bunch of recipe's for OAMC, the chicken cutlets came from her, and we also loved the Honey Glazed Dump chicken.
Amish Baked Oatmeal Don't forget breakfast! I make this with regular oats instead of quick, use 25% less sugar than called for, double the amount and cook overnight on low in the crock pot. To die for. My kids think it's dessert.
They CAME!
B feels like an official 2nd grader now.
We've been getting "official" around here a lot lately.
We'll be your "official" source of all things mundane and boring. Boring is good. Baseball starts tomorrow. That will not be boring.
I did find a fun steal for my new t-ball girlie:
Yes, a PINK t-ball helmet. On clearance for $2 at Wally Mart. I am so sad I didn't buy the pink and robin's egg blue mitt they had on clearance two months ago. I'm almost secretly hoping her brother's old cleats won't fit. Yes, they make PINK cleats. I know. It's a sickness, really.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
I Didn't Die!
I felt yuck-o-la most of last week, but awoke on Monday to a much better feeling self. Now the crud is working it's way through the fam, but hopefully the kids will be spared the worst of it. Thanks for the kind comments, even while I let my blog reading go to pot.
College is making me feel old! In my REMEDIAL math class last week, we were discussing mean and median and I, being the accounting minded individual that I am, asked when we'd even really care about median. The teacher who, is obviously well versed in the meaning of REMEDIAL, offered the example of purchasing a house in a neighborhood with fairly consistant property values and one odd-ball, high property value. Gotcha. Then a bubble blowing, Gucci bag toting, flip-flop wearing little gal on the back row piped up, and this is what she said:
"As a woman, and as a shopper, median means a lot to me, so that I buy items that are reasonably priced and I don't overspend on like items."
OK. Whatever.
Two minutes later, we're handed a worksheet:
"Bob's electricity bills for January, February and March were $178, $295, and $150, what is Bob's average electricity bill for these three months."
Here's the conversation that went on in my head:
"As a responsible, bill paying adult, it would be a cold day in Pergatory before I gave one moment's thought to the median in this equation. In fact, it's been so long since I had the need to think of anything other than bill paying and budgeting, it's no wonder my poor little brain rejected the idea of using a median."
And it was then that I KNEW:
I am an official grownup.
I think like one. I look like one. I act like one, and best of all, I'm OK with being one. Perception is everything.
College is making me feel old! In my REMEDIAL math class last week, we were discussing mean and median and I, being the accounting minded individual that I am, asked when we'd even really care about median. The teacher who, is obviously well versed in the meaning of REMEDIAL, offered the example of purchasing a house in a neighborhood with fairly consistant property values and one odd-ball, high property value. Gotcha. Then a bubble blowing, Gucci bag toting, flip-flop wearing little gal on the back row piped up, and this is what she said:
"As a woman, and as a shopper, median means a lot to me, so that I buy items that are reasonably priced and I don't overspend on like items."
OK. Whatever.
Two minutes later, we're handed a worksheet:
"Bob's electricity bills for January, February and March were $178, $295, and $150, what is Bob's average electricity bill for these three months."
Here's the conversation that went on in my head:
"As a responsible, bill paying adult, it would be a cold day in Pergatory before I gave one moment's thought to the median in this equation. In fact, it's been so long since I had the need to think of anything other than bill paying and budgeting, it's no wonder my poor little brain rejected the idea of using a median."
And it was then that I KNEW:
I am an official grownup.
I think like one. I look like one. I act like one, and best of all, I'm OK with being one. Perception is everything.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
My Big Day
I am officially a college student. Here's how the first day went:
6:45- Woke up. As in, A.M. Yes, I know, shocking, really.
7:00- Dressed and presentable, I sat down to breakfast and a short assignment for my online english class.
7:30- Wondered why Hubster's phone alarm sounded different.
7:31- Wondered why Hubster was roaming the house, nekkid.
7:32- Searching house for D's folder. Secretly hoping Hubster got a taste of why I don't drag children out of bed. Ever.
7:35- Leave Hubster looking for missing folder.
7:40- Wonder how many light changes I'll sit through before I get to turn the corner.
7:50- Think to self, "Self, you should maybe get out of the house earlier"
7:51- Park car and hike approximately 4 miles up hill in thesnow blazing sun humid early dawn.
7:59- Walk into mostly full class room and take a seat behind large youth wearing a baseball cap.
7:59:30- Realize I should have studied and tried to pass to a higher Math placement. Remedial math=remedial student types. Got that equation down just DANDY Mr. College Professor, sir.
8:05- What's that sickeningly sweet smell?
8:10- Large youth with baseball cap seems to be sweating now, the smell is getting stronger.
8:15- Realize that I am either going to throw up, or pass out, or both.
8:16- Entertain the thought that I might be having a panic attack instead.
8:17- Realize that, no, I am in fact, about to throw up.
8:17:10- The air conditioning kicks on.
8:17:30-8:45- Squirm uncomfortably through a remedial fractions lesson.
8:50- Class dismissed. I go searching for something to ease my discomfort and sooth my throat, which I now realize feels like I've swallowed sandpaper.
9:00- Watch Coke machine take my last four quarters and fail to dispense my much needed beverage.
9:15-10:15- Endure arrogant Professor of history bumbling through class rules and trying to crack jokes, even trying to make one at MY expense. Briefly wonder if the first day of class is a good time to tell a Professor to get over himself.
10:16- Flee to the comfort and safety of my car, at least it was downhill this time.
10:50- Walk through door and tell Hubster I'm going to bed, and no, that's not an invitation.
11:00-3:30- Sleep the fitful sleep of fever and chill, trying to ignore the small people who are circling my bed like a pack of vultures.
3:30- Realize the house is quiet. Hubster took the kids out.
4:30- Pop dinner in the oven. Lie on couch wishing for the world to end.
5:30- Shower and re-dress for round two.
6:00- Buy Cherry Vanilla Coke at convienience store.
6:20- Stroll to class. Uphill, but only two miles this time.
6:25-9:15- Enjoy Biology lecture and think all classes should be night classes or internet classes.
9:20- Drive home.
9:25- Coughing fit.
9:25:15- Hit curb.
9:25:18- Listen to the sickening, thud, thud, thud, of a tire with no air in it.
9:26- Call Hubster and break the news.
9:27- Lower spare, jack up car, take off tire.
9:40- Hubster finishes job for me, and doesn't even complain that I stayed in bed all day, then ruined a brand new Michelin tire.
Lucky for me, road hazard warranty also covers "stupid", so the tire was replaced this morning at nominal cost, but I think I'll try to have a better day tomorrow, if it's all the same to you! We rested and took it easy today, and aside from the dagger that must surely be sticking out of my tonsil, I feel much, much better. So I'm off to bed early and I'll try to give you a happy post sometime in the near, near future!
6:45- Woke up. As in, A.M. Yes, I know, shocking, really.
7:00- Dressed and presentable, I sat down to breakfast and a short assignment for my online english class.
7:30- Wondered why Hubster's phone alarm sounded different.
7:31- Wondered why Hubster was roaming the house, nekkid.
7:32- Searching house for D's folder. Secretly hoping Hubster got a taste of why I don't drag children out of bed. Ever.
7:35- Leave Hubster looking for missing folder.
7:40- Wonder how many light changes I'll sit through before I get to turn the corner.
7:50- Think to self, "Self, you should maybe get out of the house earlier"
7:51- Park car and hike approximately 4 miles up hill in the
7:59- Walk into mostly full class room and take a seat behind large youth wearing a baseball cap.
7:59:30- Realize I should have studied and tried to pass to a higher Math placement. Remedial math=remedial student types. Got that equation down just DANDY Mr. College Professor, sir.
8:05- What's that sickeningly sweet smell?
8:10- Large youth with baseball cap seems to be sweating now, the smell is getting stronger.
8:15- Realize that I am either going to throw up, or pass out, or both.
8:16- Entertain the thought that I might be having a panic attack instead.
8:17- Realize that, no, I am in fact, about to throw up.
8:17:10- The air conditioning kicks on.
8:17:30-8:45- Squirm uncomfortably through a remedial fractions lesson.
8:50- Class dismissed. I go searching for something to ease my discomfort and sooth my throat, which I now realize feels like I've swallowed sandpaper.
9:00- Watch Coke machine take my last four quarters and fail to dispense my much needed beverage.
9:15-10:15- Endure arrogant Professor of history bumbling through class rules and trying to crack jokes, even trying to make one at MY expense. Briefly wonder if the first day of class is a good time to tell a Professor to get over himself.
10:16- Flee to the comfort and safety of my car, at least it was downhill this time.
10:50- Walk through door and tell Hubster I'm going to bed, and no, that's not an invitation.
11:00-3:30- Sleep the fitful sleep of fever and chill, trying to ignore the small people who are circling my bed like a pack of vultures.
3:30- Realize the house is quiet. Hubster took the kids out.
4:30- Pop dinner in the oven. Lie on couch wishing for the world to end.
5:30- Shower and re-dress for round two.
6:00- Buy Cherry Vanilla Coke at convienience store.
6:20- Stroll to class. Uphill, but only two miles this time.
6:25-9:15- Enjoy Biology lecture and think all classes should be night classes or internet classes.
9:20- Drive home.
9:25- Coughing fit.
9:25:15- Hit curb.
9:25:18- Listen to the sickening, thud, thud, thud, of a tire with no air in it.
9:26- Call Hubster and break the news.
9:27- Lower spare, jack up car, take off tire.
9:40- Hubster finishes job for me, and doesn't even complain that I stayed in bed all day, then ruined a brand new Michelin tire.
Lucky for me, road hazard warranty also covers "stupid", so the tire was replaced this morning at nominal cost, but I think I'll try to have a better day tomorrow, if it's all the same to you! We rested and took it easy today, and aside from the dagger that must surely be sticking out of my tonsil, I feel much, much better. So I'm off to bed early and I'll try to give you a happy post sometime in the near, near future!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Making Yogurt
Since a Stephanie and Nettie asked, here's the method for making yogurt with your powdered milk storage.
2 C Warm water
1 C Non-instant powdered milk
2 T yogurt starter (unflavored commercial yogurt)
Whip this all up together, in the blender or by hand, just get all the lumps out, then pour into glasses or jars. Place jars neck deep in a pan in warm (100 degree) water. COver pan with lid. Then, put the whole thing somewhere where a temperature between 100-200 degrees can be maintained. I used my attic, then my oven as it was cooling down from making cookies when the attic cooled down. It doesn't have to be precise, just don't get it too hot or you'll kill the cultures. They say it should be set in 4 hours. Ethel's recipe says to leave in warm oven overnight. I say, check it after 4 hours and go from there. It's safe for it to be out for up to 12 hours.
To make cream cheese, you pour the yogurt into cloth, I used one of Hubsters hankies, (yes, it was clean and new!) tied it shut with a rubber band and hung it over the sink. I can't say I'm thrilled with the result yet. I haven't had time to make spinach dip. I can say that my pint of yogurt didn't yield a whole lot of cream cheese.
Nettie, to make ricotta, you're supposed to squeeze the yogurt, I assume while it's in the cloth, to expell the whey. How this differs from the cream cheese, I'm not sure, but that's what the book says!
The book I use is called Making the Best of Basics by James Talmage Stevens. It is a wonderful resource for planning and using your food storage.
Next I want to try cottage cheese and cheddar, but I have to find some rennet or junket tablets. I'm not sure where I'm going to find them other than Ethel's offer to give me some...
***Editing to add this link to the Mother Earth News which describes how to make your own yogurt maker. They also suggest adding a can of evaporated milk to the mixture, which sounds like it might be worth trying!
2 C Warm water
1 C Non-instant powdered milk
2 T yogurt starter (unflavored commercial yogurt)
Whip this all up together, in the blender or by hand, just get all the lumps out, then pour into glasses or jars. Place jars neck deep in a pan in warm (100 degree) water. COver pan with lid. Then, put the whole thing somewhere where a temperature between 100-200 degrees can be maintained. I used my attic, then my oven as it was cooling down from making cookies when the attic cooled down. It doesn't have to be precise, just don't get it too hot or you'll kill the cultures. They say it should be set in 4 hours. Ethel's recipe says to leave in warm oven overnight. I say, check it after 4 hours and go from there. It's safe for it to be out for up to 12 hours.
To make cream cheese, you pour the yogurt into cloth, I used one of Hubsters hankies, (yes, it was clean and new!) tied it shut with a rubber band and hung it over the sink. I can't say I'm thrilled with the result yet. I haven't had time to make spinach dip. I can say that my pint of yogurt didn't yield a whole lot of cream cheese.
Nettie, to make ricotta, you're supposed to squeeze the yogurt, I assume while it's in the cloth, to expell the whey. How this differs from the cream cheese, I'm not sure, but that's what the book says!
The book I use is called Making the Best of Basics by James Talmage Stevens. It is a wonderful resource for planning and using your food storage.
Next I want to try cottage cheese and cheddar, but I have to find some rennet or junket tablets. I'm not sure where I'm going to find them other than Ethel's offer to give me some...
***Editing to add this link to the Mother Earth News which describes how to make your own yogurt maker. They also suggest adding a can of evaporated milk to the mixture, which sounds like it might be worth trying!
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I Swear You Look Familiar
I've been busy making yogurt from my powdered milk storage! I finally left one batch alone long enough for it to work. The book says if it doesn't set in 4 hours it probably won't. They lied. Mine took about 9 hours, I think if you keep it hotter, it sets faster.
I swear I've seen something similar to the finished product in the bottom of a sippy cup that got pushed under the couch and forgotten. Ethel swears you can make it by just leaving milk on the counter. She is a much braver woman than I. Mine may LOOK like sour, milk-turned-jelly, but I put mine in my attic (where it's hot, hot, hot) so mine must surely be more than sour milk...right? It tastes pretty much like the plain yogurt I used for starter, and we all ate some several hours ago, and we aren't sick...yet. I declare it a sucess! We found that adding a touch of vanilla gets rid of the last of that "powdered milk" taste.
Now I'm moving on to making cheese. First I'm trying cream cheese since it can be made from the yogurt. Next, I want to try Ricotta, then I'll build a press and try cheddar!
I swear I've seen something similar to the finished product in the bottom of a sippy cup that got pushed under the couch and forgotten. Ethel swears you can make it by just leaving milk on the counter. She is a much braver woman than I. Mine may LOOK like sour, milk-turned-jelly, but I put mine in my attic (where it's hot, hot, hot) so mine must surely be more than sour milk...right? It tastes pretty much like the plain yogurt I used for starter, and we all ate some several hours ago, and we aren't sick...yet. I declare it a sucess! We found that adding a touch of vanilla gets rid of the last of that "powdered milk" taste.
Now I'm moving on to making cheese. First I'm trying cream cheese since it can be made from the yogurt. Next, I want to try Ricotta, then I'll build a press and try cheddar!
Monday, August 21, 2006
Monday Meltdowns
For me. Not the children. No, their job is to inform people who drop by unannounced with a child on their hip that they expect *moi* to babysit that, "Mom's crying because that dress didn't fit." Shuddapwouldja?
Yes, it seems that Mondays just aren't good days for me. Is it the vast expanse of the week stretching out before me? Or maybe it's the fact that I start my Mondays off with desk time, in which I attempt to be the Mom of All Bill Paying. Or maybe that in all this Mondayness, I just want to get to the library so I can see the unsmiling faces of the fat, old, kid-hating women they employ there.
*shrug*
Beats me.
So I really did have one of those days. It was the first day of school for D, who is in PS. And the first day of PS signals the day that I begin to berate myself if we don't achieve homeschool perfection. We schooled most of the summer, but in a funner, less worksheet-ed way. But alas, I must push my little darlings to get their very own writing callus and so back to the worksheets we go. I woke up early. Like 5 am early. And when you've only just gone to sleep at midnight, getting up early is not a good sign. Next, I made the mistake of checking over the bank thing, which led to the sudden need to deposit the paycheck. Back from the bank, DHL arrives. Ah. The Dress. Charming. I knew better than to try it on. I knew. Still. It's going back from whence it came.
So as I sniffled and blew my nose, and soothed my injured pride with a nice bowl of sugar cereal, a person really did show up at my door with a child on her hip expecting (not asking) me to watch said child. This child is a darling child, but J thinks he rips a hole in her time/space continum. He breaths her air, and, quite frankly, he LOOKS at her. Much screaming and pushing and pulling and hitting ensues. This is not a combination that I find compatible with homeschooling. I watched said child until she sent in the relief crew, but the damage was done.
When we arrived at the library, the newly potty converted person was soaked. Yes, the same one who went all day long at the museum with no accidents had an accident in the ten minutes it takes to drive to the library. Lucky me. I did have a back up pair of clothes that were only a little wet from the water bottle that leaked on them. The unsmiling lady informed me that they STILL haven't found the book that I returned and they lost. I'm serious. I really have looked everywhere and I SWEAR I remember seeing it in the book drop when I brought it back. So we got our goodies, and I must say, I loooooove the library when it's just me and the other homeschoolers. We smile our knowing smiles at each other and load up our laundry baskets with books. No one to point fingers at us or shush our children. Love it.
So I decided that it had already been a fairly cruddy start to the day, I'd finish it off like a band aid. Just rip it off real fast so I could go home and stay there until forced out. I went and bought my books for my classes that start next week. Get this. I had to SIGN A PAPER, that said I realized that the bookSTORE I was SHOPPING in and GIVING LARGE AMOUNTS OF MY MONEY TO, still OWNS the books and that I am BORROWING THEM. If I don't bring them back, I'll be held responsible.
Let me just give you a minute to wrap your mind around that.
Yeah.
I'm thinking that a great deal of my blogging time in the up coming months will be devoted to snarky comments about college. And I couldn't be more thankful that I did not schedule a single class on Mondays.
Yes, it seems that Mondays just aren't good days for me. Is it the vast expanse of the week stretching out before me? Or maybe it's the fact that I start my Mondays off with desk time, in which I attempt to be the Mom of All Bill Paying. Or maybe that in all this Mondayness, I just want to get to the library so I can see the unsmiling faces of the fat, old, kid-hating women they employ there.
*shrug*
Beats me.
So I really did have one of those days. It was the first day of school for D, who is in PS. And the first day of PS signals the day that I begin to berate myself if we don't achieve homeschool perfection. We schooled most of the summer, but in a funner, less worksheet-ed way. But alas, I must push my little darlings to get their very own writing callus and so back to the worksheets we go. I woke up early. Like 5 am early. And when you've only just gone to sleep at midnight, getting up early is not a good sign. Next, I made the mistake of checking over the bank thing, which led to the sudden need to deposit the paycheck. Back from the bank, DHL arrives. Ah. The Dress. Charming. I knew better than to try it on. I knew. Still. It's going back from whence it came.
So as I sniffled and blew my nose, and soothed my injured pride with a nice bowl of sugar cereal, a person really did show up at my door with a child on her hip expecting (not asking) me to watch said child. This child is a darling child, but J thinks he rips a hole in her time/space continum. He breaths her air, and, quite frankly, he LOOKS at her. Much screaming and pushing and pulling and hitting ensues. This is not a combination that I find compatible with homeschooling. I watched said child until she sent in the relief crew, but the damage was done.
When we arrived at the library, the newly potty converted person was soaked. Yes, the same one who went all day long at the museum with no accidents had an accident in the ten minutes it takes to drive to the library. Lucky me. I did have a back up pair of clothes that were only a little wet from the water bottle that leaked on them. The unsmiling lady informed me that they STILL haven't found the book that I returned and they lost. I'm serious. I really have looked everywhere and I SWEAR I remember seeing it in the book drop when I brought it back. So we got our goodies, and I must say, I loooooove the library when it's just me and the other homeschoolers. We smile our knowing smiles at each other and load up our laundry baskets with books. No one to point fingers at us or shush our children. Love it.
So I decided that it had already been a fairly cruddy start to the day, I'd finish it off like a band aid. Just rip it off real fast so I could go home and stay there until forced out. I went and bought my books for my classes that start next week. Get this. I had to SIGN A PAPER, that said I realized that the bookSTORE I was SHOPPING in and GIVING LARGE AMOUNTS OF MY MONEY TO, still OWNS the books and that I am BORROWING THEM. If I don't bring them back, I'll be held responsible.
Let me just give you a minute to wrap your mind around that.
Yeah.
I'm thinking that a great deal of my blogging time in the up coming months will be devoted to snarky comments about college. And I couldn't be more thankful that I did not schedule a single class on Mondays.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
When Mommy Blogs
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Six
Where has time gone, my girly girl? It seems like just a minute ago you were J's age. Swimming in your grandma's pool, and blowing out two candles on your Barbie cake. The one I melted in the oven after I had decorated it and used the oven to store it until the party, I had to frost it all over again, silly Mom!
You are my sweet and eager to please girl. You were going to be the baby of the family. I wonder sometimes if you feel a little lost, having been shoved into the role of a middle child. You are an awesome big sister, even though J resists your loving now, I just know you and she will be best friends someday. You're friends with everyone. No one can resist your sweet smile and kind heart. Your Sunday School teacher tells me, in secret of course, that you are her favorite. The music leader loves watching you sing your little heart out and always tells me what a well behaved, polite little girl you are.
You are super smart in school. You love to do your work, and you can already tell time all by yourself. You can count to 100 by ones, fives, tens and twenty-five. You know your addition facts almost as well as your brother and you love to copy things down in your "papers". Don't worry one little bit about your reading. You are almost there! You can read lots of the words, and when you find the confidence to sound things out, you're gonna light the world on fire.
I love that you still carry your "Rabbie" to bed with you. I remember the time that you noticed a hole in her and when I came to tuck you in, I covered you up and saw that Rabbie was not on your bed. When I asked you where she was, you told me, with great big tears in those liquid brown eyes that you folded her and put her on your dresser because you didn't want her to ever wear out. My heart just melted and I told you that Rabbie was made a long time ago for me by some people who had a whole lot of love in their hearts. They sewed all that love into Rabbie, and they meant for her to be loved by me, and then by my little girl. I told you that Rabbie was given to you to love, and that she was easily mended with a little more of the same love that went into making her. I took her off the dresser where you had placed her, and put her on top of your blankets, just like you always liked, and the very next morning, we got out my sewing machine and we fixed Rabbie together. We sewed her little edging back tight and made sure the pink rabbit that makes Rabbie be Rabbie was sewed up nice, and you danced all around the kitchen table. I used her again tonight to tuck you in, and I'm so glad she's still there for you to love. I know the day will come that you won't need her corner to rub on your little eye to help you drift off to sleep, and I think the morning you come into my bed without her, my heart will break into a million pieces.
You've always been my cuddler. I think you will be the one who will play with my hair and lie down with your head in my lap. When you were a baby, you refused to be put down. There were many days when I'd just hold you all day and most of the night. I didn't always appreciate that contact as much as I could have. I used to love to watch you sleeping in my arms. Until my arms ached and I thought they'd drop off from lack of circulation.
I love you so much it takes my breath away. I'm so lucky we get to be friends forever. I'll be the best mommy I can, and I hope you'll forgive my many shortcomings. I'll cherish the day your daddy gives you to the man of your dreams, I'll cry the day I hold your babies, and I'll always be here when you need a soft place to land. You and me babe. You're the girl I always knew I'd have and I'm so lucky and proud to be your mom. Happy sixth birthday K-lou.
You are my sweet and eager to please girl. You were going to be the baby of the family. I wonder sometimes if you feel a little lost, having been shoved into the role of a middle child. You are an awesome big sister, even though J resists your loving now, I just know you and she will be best friends someday. You're friends with everyone. No one can resist your sweet smile and kind heart. Your Sunday School teacher tells me, in secret of course, that you are her favorite. The music leader loves watching you sing your little heart out and always tells me what a well behaved, polite little girl you are.
You are super smart in school. You love to do your work, and you can already tell time all by yourself. You can count to 100 by ones, fives, tens and twenty-five. You know your addition facts almost as well as your brother and you love to copy things down in your "papers". Don't worry one little bit about your reading. You are almost there! You can read lots of the words, and when you find the confidence to sound things out, you're gonna light the world on fire.
I love that you still carry your "Rabbie" to bed with you. I remember the time that you noticed a hole in her and when I came to tuck you in, I covered you up and saw that Rabbie was not on your bed. When I asked you where she was, you told me, with great big tears in those liquid brown eyes that you folded her and put her on your dresser because you didn't want her to ever wear out. My heart just melted and I told you that Rabbie was made a long time ago for me by some people who had a whole lot of love in their hearts. They sewed all that love into Rabbie, and they meant for her to be loved by me, and then by my little girl. I told you that Rabbie was given to you to love, and that she was easily mended with a little more of the same love that went into making her. I took her off the dresser where you had placed her, and put her on top of your blankets, just like you always liked, and the very next morning, we got out my sewing machine and we fixed Rabbie together. We sewed her little edging back tight and made sure the pink rabbit that makes Rabbie be Rabbie was sewed up nice, and you danced all around the kitchen table. I used her again tonight to tuck you in, and I'm so glad she's still there for you to love. I know the day will come that you won't need her corner to rub on your little eye to help you drift off to sleep, and I think the morning you come into my bed without her, my heart will break into a million pieces.
You've always been my cuddler. I think you will be the one who will play with my hair and lie down with your head in my lap. When you were a baby, you refused to be put down. There were many days when I'd just hold you all day and most of the night. I didn't always appreciate that contact as much as I could have. I used to love to watch you sleeping in my arms. Until my arms ached and I thought they'd drop off from lack of circulation.
I love you so much it takes my breath away. I'm so lucky we get to be friends forever. I'll be the best mommy I can, and I hope you'll forgive my many shortcomings. I'll cherish the day your daddy gives you to the man of your dreams, I'll cry the day I hold your babies, and I'll always be here when you need a soft place to land. You and me babe. You're the girl I always knew I'd have and I'm so lucky and proud to be your mom. Happy sixth birthday K-lou.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The Best Intentions
I've been dying to blog about this.
All the husbands in muchkin land have been being naughty. My friends have all had altercations with their spousal units this past week, and my turn came Monday. Hubster was a jerk. Yes girls, you read right, my perfect Hubster was a turkey butt to.me.
I finished my test yesterday, and things were still sort of tense. I was sulking. He deserved it. So he invited me to ride into the city on a couple errands, and I accepted. Tough to give someone the silent treatment if they aren't there, I figured, so, I'd make sure he knew he was getting the silent treatment.
Bless his heart, he took me to get a facial.
My husband NEVER says I'm sorry. Ever. Not the words anyway. So I recognize this as an extremely sweet and nice gesture. The sweetest and nicest thing he's done in a long time, in fact.
But if that were all there was to this story, I wouldn't be dying to blog about it, now would I?
So we pull up in front of the Howard Hinkle Building. Howard Hinkle Construction, Leasing Office, Meeting Hall, and BEAUTY SALON.
No, I'm not kidding.
Hubster asks if I want to come in or wait, I chose to wait in the car. I was suspicious, but I wasn't gonna ask him why we were four blocks from where he said we were going. What good is the silent treatment if you aren't, well, silent.
He returned a short while later and said it was going to take a minute, please come in.
We went down a narrow hallway, past the BEAUTY SALON to a door that said "Body By Penny" "Massage, Facials, " and I couldn't read the rest. We were greeted by a small, round, black woman. We went into a small, windowless room decorated in the 1970's, and not once since then. He then paid the woman and LEFT ME. I was led into an even smaller windowless room and instructed to take off the shirt, put on the sheet, and lie on the table. Um, OK then. The shirt off thing wasn't really too creepy, but as I looked around the yellowed linoleum looking for a place to leave my shoes, I noticed the yellowed towels and wondered how many sweaty bodies it actually TAKES to make white towels turn yellow.
When I had K, they gave me a drug to stop my labor so they could do a c-section. It messed with my mind. I remember thinking, "Hubster, get my shoes. I need my shooooooeeeesssss." There were no drugs to induce those thoughts yesterday.
Mind over matter, I told myself. I was there by myself, with no hope of escape, and by now I was actually chuckling over my husbands good intentions as I tried to ensure my personal safety.
I hopped on the table and this bubbly black woman came in and told me her life's story while she washed my face. She used some sort of rotary device, you know the kind you see in the back of magazines and on info-mercials? And she buffed and exfoliated and *sniff* is that Noxema I smell? I had the horrifying thought that the stone she was using to scrape off my face might also be the stone she uses to scrape the calluses off her clients feet, but I squeezed my eyes shut really, really tight and hoped for the best. It really wasn't completely horrible, as long as I haven't contracted some sort of rash that eats off half my face by next week, I'll start breathing again.
When Hubster came back to rescue pick me up, the silent treatment was over. He asked how it was, obviously, I couldn't bear to burst his bubble, so I started to laugh and tell him about it. Apparently, there were a few things he didn't think about. Fortunately, he wasn't offended when I told him that next time, I'd prefer to go to someone with a license for that sort of thing. While I am concerned that my husband thought that a part time security guard would be a suitable asthetician, I do have to be thankful that I have a husband that always, always believes the best about other people. Not in a "sucker" kind of way, but in a kind, non-judgmental way. It is one of his most endearing and admirable qualities and I'm so lucky he's mine.
Now WHERE did I leave those business cards from the day spa? I'm thinking I will tape one to my computer monitor to ward off any future attacks of uninformed kindness on the part of my husband.
All the husbands in muchkin land have been being naughty. My friends have all had altercations with their spousal units this past week, and my turn came Monday. Hubster was a jerk. Yes girls, you read right, my perfect Hubster was a turkey butt to.me.
I finished my test yesterday, and things were still sort of tense. I was sulking. He deserved it. So he invited me to ride into the city on a couple errands, and I accepted. Tough to give someone the silent treatment if they aren't there, I figured, so, I'd make sure he knew he was getting the silent treatment.
Bless his heart, he took me to get a facial.
My husband NEVER says I'm sorry. Ever. Not the words anyway. So I recognize this as an extremely sweet and nice gesture. The sweetest and nicest thing he's done in a long time, in fact.
But if that were all there was to this story, I wouldn't be dying to blog about it, now would I?
So we pull up in front of the Howard Hinkle Building. Howard Hinkle Construction, Leasing Office, Meeting Hall, and BEAUTY SALON.
No, I'm not kidding.
Hubster asks if I want to come in or wait, I chose to wait in the car. I was suspicious, but I wasn't gonna ask him why we were four blocks from where he said we were going. What good is the silent treatment if you aren't, well, silent.
He returned a short while later and said it was going to take a minute, please come in.
We went down a narrow hallway, past the BEAUTY SALON to a door that said "Body By Penny" "Massage, Facials, " and I couldn't read the rest. We were greeted by a small, round, black woman. We went into a small, windowless room decorated in the 1970's, and not once since then. He then paid the woman and LEFT ME. I was led into an even smaller windowless room and instructed to take off the shirt, put on the sheet, and lie on the table. Um, OK then. The shirt off thing wasn't really too creepy, but as I looked around the yellowed linoleum looking for a place to leave my shoes, I noticed the yellowed towels and wondered how many sweaty bodies it actually TAKES to make white towels turn yellow.
When I had K, they gave me a drug to stop my labor so they could do a c-section. It messed with my mind. I remember thinking, "Hubster, get my shoes. I need my shooooooeeeesssss." There were no drugs to induce those thoughts yesterday.
Mind over matter, I told myself. I was there by myself, with no hope of escape, and by now I was actually chuckling over my husbands good intentions as I tried to ensure my personal safety.
I hopped on the table and this bubbly black woman came in and told me her life's story while she washed my face. She used some sort of rotary device, you know the kind you see in the back of magazines and on info-mercials? And she buffed and exfoliated and *sniff* is that Noxema I smell? I had the horrifying thought that the stone she was using to scrape off my face might also be the stone she uses to scrape the calluses off her clients feet, but I squeezed my eyes shut really, really tight and hoped for the best. It really wasn't completely horrible, as long as I haven't contracted some sort of rash that eats off half my face by next week, I'll start breathing again.
When Hubster came back to
Now WHERE did I leave those business cards from the day spa? I'm thinking I will tape one to my computer monitor to ward off any future attacks of uninformed kindness on the part of my husband.
Drumroll Please....
I took my CLEP test to get out of Freshman English yesterday. My college doesn't accept the Freshman College English and Composition test like I thought. SO I got to take the regular version. I passed, and it really wasn't horrible at all. My score was actually on the higher end of the scale. So I have 3 college credits down, 60 more to go. Considering all the developmental math classes I get to take, I'll take my kudos where I can. I'm just excited I get to SKIP something in school!
Conversation With Daddy
K: "Daddy, my birthday is the DAY AFTER TOMORROW!!! What are you getting me for my birthday?!"
Hubster: "Hmmmm. How about....A JOB!"
K: "Noooo! Daaaaaaddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy *insert greasy whine here*"
Hubster: "Oh, yes, I think a job is *just* what you need!"
K: "I can't have a job! I'm a princess! Princesses don't have jobs!"
Hubster: "Cinderella did. *I know*! You can be Cinderella!"
K: "That was NOT what I had planned."
Hubster: "Hmmmm. How about....A JOB!"
K: "Noooo! Daaaaaaddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy *insert greasy whine here*"
Hubster: "Oh, yes, I think a job is *just* what you need!"
K: "I can't have a job! I'm a princess! Princesses don't have jobs!"
Hubster: "Cinderella did. *I know*! You can be Cinderella!"
K: "That was NOT what I had planned."
Monday, August 14, 2006
Please Tell Me...
*Disclaimer* If you are a member of my family, especially if you are my sister, you may want to skip this post. If you read it, you may not find it humorous, which it is intended to be. If you read it anyway, consider yourself forewarned and don't disown me, m'kay?
Please tell me that with a good corset, some sexy shoes and a little bit of duct tape you can survive any dress.
Please.
Pretty please with a cherry on top?
Yes, they do make it in a size 10.
No, I'm not sure making it in a size 10 is a good idea either.
I'm also not sure how a strapless dress is supposed to stay on boobies that now require strapping.
You have no idea how much I wish my sister were Mormon right now...
Please tell me that with a good corset, some sexy shoes and a little bit of duct tape you can survive any dress.
Please.
Pretty please with a cherry on top?
Yes, they do make it in a size 10.
No, I'm not sure making it in a size 10 is a good idea either.
I'm also not sure how a strapless dress is supposed to stay on boobies that now require strapping.
You have no idea how much I wish my sister were Mormon right now...
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Please Pray
*Edit to Update*
Handyman Bob is out of surgery, they *think* the retina is OK, they will replace the lens once the eye is stable. Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers. I really mean what I said about the safety goggles, glasses aren't enough. Handyman Bob was only driving a nail, no nail gun, just a hammer. He wears glasses, but the nail managed to flip back and get him anyhow.
Girls, if you'd be so kind as to put Handyman Bob in your prayers, I'd be really grateful. There was a handyman type accident this morning, he is being flown to a hospital in the city. If you have a handy guy, or are a handy girl yourself, please, please, please remember your safety goggles, even if you are just doing a routine task. We are praying for his life, his sight and his family. Thanks.
Handyman Bob is out of surgery, they *think* the retina is OK, they will replace the lens once the eye is stable. Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers. I really mean what I said about the safety goggles, glasses aren't enough. Handyman Bob was only driving a nail, no nail gun, just a hammer. He wears glasses, but the nail managed to flip back and get him anyhow.
Girls, if you'd be so kind as to put Handyman Bob in your prayers, I'd be really grateful. There was a handyman type accident this morning, he is being flown to a hospital in the city. If you have a handy guy, or are a handy girl yourself, please, please, please remember your safety goggles, even if you are just doing a routine task. We are praying for his life, his sight and his family. Thanks.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Water Tension
We decided to experiment with water tension today by making clay boats.
ONE boat
TWO boats
THREE boats
What the.....
And of course, now we have to sink the boats
ONE boat
TWO boats
THREE boats
What the.....
And of course, now we have to sink the boats
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Random Soup
Note to self:
When your toddler says "Taa Daaaaaah!", don't just absent mindedly repeat her and smile your self assured smile that your toddler, is the cutest toddler in the world. Especially when you've given her gum to keep her quiet in the library. You need to LOOK at the child. If the child is stringing gum around her head, one "Taa Daaaaah!" equals one lap around the head. Five "Taa Daaaaah!'s" is a LOT of gum to clean up.
Why Boys are Easier:
I was discussing K's guest list for her upcoming b-day party. I find myself only a week to party time, so I will be calling to invite people...again. So I asked her, "so you want to invite S, and A and K..." She interrupted me and said, "Well, S doesn't like A and A doesn't like S and K doesn't like S."
Wow. Um. OK. Sounds like I may want to have extra hands on deck to referee the clash of the six year olds.
"Well," I asked her, "what about C? You like her right?"
To which K replied, "Oh no! She doesn't like ANYONE! I don't know *what* has gotten into her."
I am dead meat.
And Finally:
I'm official. Well, they're going to let me park there, anyway.
When your toddler says "Taa Daaaaaah!", don't just absent mindedly repeat her and smile your self assured smile that your toddler, is the cutest toddler in the world. Especially when you've given her gum to keep her quiet in the library. You need to LOOK at the child. If the child is stringing gum around her head, one "Taa Daaaaah!" equals one lap around the head. Five "Taa Daaaaah!'s" is a LOT of gum to clean up.
Why Boys are Easier:
I was discussing K's guest list for her upcoming b-day party. I find myself only a week to party time, so I will be calling to invite people...again. So I asked her, "so you want to invite S, and A and K..." She interrupted me and said, "Well, S doesn't like A and A doesn't like S and K doesn't like S."
Wow. Um. OK. Sounds like I may want to have extra hands on deck to referee the clash of the six year olds.
"Well," I asked her, "what about C? You like her right?"
To which K replied, "Oh no! She doesn't like ANYONE! I don't know *what* has gotten into her."
I am dead meat.
And Finally:
I'm official. Well, they're going to let me park there, anyway.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Newsflash
I interrupt this blog to bring you some important news: Mom of All Trades' house is clean. Every room, at the same time. And we aren't expecting company. The clothes are even folded and put away. I rock. Ahem.
I also need to give praise to Jacquelyn Mitchard's new book Cage of Stars. I've actually gone through and read all but two of her books and have yet to be dissapointed. What a talented writer! One of the people on the back cover of the book (Luanne Rice) said it perfectly when she said "...when I finish reading one of her novels, I somehow know more about myself." She did a great job researching the LDS religion to give credibility to her main characters in Cage of Stars. There were a couple goofs, but she is currently asking for readers input so revisions can be made in upcoming printings. Chris over at Notes From the Trenches did an interview with her, which is how I found out about her writing. She seems very down to earth, and she has a real talent for human insight. You should check her out, girls! She's a keeper!
I also need to give praise to Jacquelyn Mitchard's new book Cage of Stars. I've actually gone through and read all but two of her books and have yet to be dissapointed. What a talented writer! One of the people on the back cover of the book (Luanne Rice) said it perfectly when she said "...when I finish reading one of her novels, I somehow know more about myself." She did a great job researching the LDS religion to give credibility to her main characters in Cage of Stars. There were a couple goofs, but she is currently asking for readers input so revisions can be made in upcoming printings. Chris over at Notes From the Trenches did an interview with her, which is how I found out about her writing. She seems very down to earth, and she has a real talent for human insight. You should check her out, girls! She's a keeper!
Friday, August 04, 2006
WHAAAAAA!!!!
My baby potty trained her little self this week. I'm not ready for her to be potty trained. I only get to hear the swish-swish of her little diaper booty on the way to bed at night. The walk to the bedroom is not long enough. I never cared to hurry any of the kids along with the potty training, but both girls decided on their own at about 22 months. Maybe it has something to do with Texas summer heat and heavy, hot diapers. Maybe I've discovered the secret for potty trainers everywhere: Try to keep your kid in diapers as long as possible! Seriously. Diapers are much easier than public restrooms with little people who have no germ fear. As soon as you love the idea of diapers forever, your little one will refuse to wear them. Sigh.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Why Homeschool. Part Two.
Picking up where I left off...
Fifth grade was a new life, a second chance at having a good education. How blessed my family was and is, to be friends with both the Director of the lab school, and one of it's best teachers. Now that I think about it, it really is remarkable that the three families that were closest to my grandparents were full of truly talented educators. I don't know how it all went down for sure, but one of the families had a daughter who was becoming a teacher, she was the one who administered the reading test to me as part of her course work. The other two women took care of getting me in the school, and even made sure I had transportation to and from school, since we lived a little hike from town. The school it's self was a learning lab for the students at the college who were training to become teachers. It's simpler to call it a private school, but, that sounds stuffy and privileged. We weren't poor, but my life was not one of privilege. If not for the efforts of my grandparents friends, I would have had no choice but to continue on in public school. This thing they did for us was a blessing beyond measure.
So I started the fifth grade with another round of testing. They figured I could read and comprehend most anything they threw at me now. At some point they made a video of me and a classmate demonstrating our ability to read and regurgitate, like we were some kind of circus act. They managed to make me feel a little bit special and a little more normal and tried to give me a glimpse of what could be possible. The school encouraged students to work at their own pace, and most of the kids that attended were very bright and hardworking. It was something else to be with peers who were above average, it was nice to have it be OK to be smart. And yet, fitting in socially was still elusive for me.
I don't know how I looked on the outside to people, but I was a mess on the inside. I'm pretty sure I spent more time in the councilor's office than the other kids combined. Somewhere along the way, despite the supreme effort of teachers who really cared about me, I lost the thirst for knowledge. What I really wanted, was to fit in, have friends, and not be the butt of people's jokes anymore. School just wasn't fun, it wasn't work, it was just a meaningless time suck punctuated by occasional after school activities that helped keep me from going off the deep end. We still lived on the ranch, and I would awake at four thirty am to complete chores and ride to town with my dad so that he could be at work by 7. After school, I made my way to his office and we rode home at about 7. My sister's accident was followed by my grandfather's illness and I juggled a lot at home. I felt the weight of responsibility around my neck and I resented that it made me even more different.
I was in the seventh grade when I told my family that I didn't want to go to college. I told them I'd change my mind if they'd let me take college classes in place of at least some high school course work. I knew it could be done because the kid I sat next to in typing class took college classes when he was in the ninth grade. I think the push to just hurry up and get childhood over with began around that time. I felt powerless in so many ways, defeated and worn out from wanting to be good, and never quite living up to my potential. In fact, I was sick of hearing about my potential.
The lab school didn't offer high school, so I re-entered the public school system. I had been good at cheerleading, and was encouraged to try out, but just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do it. I heard you had to pay for the camps and uniforms, and arranging transportation for after practices and games meant negotiations with dad. I figured, "Why bother?" I was just putting in my time so I could get out. Somewhere, I stopped being the gangly girl with the pug nose and became the girl with the small boobs and the great butt. It attracted a few boys, and I picked one. I figured he'd probably use me and dump me, but he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was 15 at the time and the idea that someone thought more of me than I thought of myself put me over the moon. He was a year older than I and when I was a junior in high school, I asked my parents to let me become emancipated. I didn't intend to marry him right then, I just wanted, needed, some kind of space. I wasn't raised to live with someone out of wedlock, but it would provide a means of survival, I was past caring what people, including my family, thought about me. When they turned me down, I planned a wedding date two weeks after my high school graduation. I turned down being the hometown rodeo queen and concentrated on the freedom that I could almost taste.
Brandi wondered what all this has to do with why I chose to homeschool. To me, it has everything to do with why I homeschool. I came a hair's breath away from screwing up my life beyond all recognition. I didn't love my highschool sweetheart. I loved that he loved me. It took all of 18 months after I graduated and got married to figure out that I could love myself and was worthy of a more suitable mate. I was married, divorced and remarried by the time I turned 21. When I remarried, it was to a man 18 years older than I who had three kids. It was sheer dumb luck and the love of God that I got an incredible husband who really did see through all the crazy, weird behavior, took a gamble on whether or not I'd grow into a decent wife, and gently began the process of helping me understand and gain self worth. My parents and grandparents did everything they could, but they couldn't overcome the feelings of shame, hopelessness and self-loathing that were planted there by my peers.
Academics played a big roll in my desire to homeschool, I figured I certainly couldn't do worse than the two room school house, and if I paid close attention to their individual needs, I could probably do a darn sight better. Socialization played a big roll as well. Socialization is one of the biggest concerns people seem to have about homeschooling, and quite honestly, it's probably the biggest reason I got passionate about it. I want to pick my kids' friends for a while. I want to make sure they look up to people worthy of their respect. I want to help them navigate their social interactions until they have a better idea of who they are and what they believe. I want them to be able to focus on school work while they mature socially, whether that pace is slower or faster than other children their age. I don't want their self worth tied up in whether or not they get picked for dodgeball, or who sits next to them at lunch. When I had my kids, I knew I could never send them to daycare. There wasn't anyone in this world who could love them more or nurture them better than I could. When it came time for school, I knew that nothing had changed. No one cares about their education and their socialization more than I do. When I first brought it up with Hubster, he wasn't completely on board, but he wasn't sold on the alternatives either. Finally, the more we talked and prayed and researched it, we knew it was what we were supposed to do.
I have found myself scared to death that I will screw this up. I worry that my kids will be "the weird kids". The first year, I worried over my ability to teach them what they need to know. But the farther along this path we go, the more success we have under our belt and the more confidence we gain to keep going. So far, both kids have learned to read and write, do addition and subtraction, read time, count money, measure things, and they have the bug, the itch to learn more. They hate it when history time is over and they often don't even realize I'm giving them a science lesson. They just like spending time with mom and dad and playing together. We're starting 1st and 2nd grades this year. They play well with other kids, in the neighborhood, at church, at community sponsored sporting events, and at homeschool functions. We don't plan on homeschooling through high school, but even that depends on what we feel is right at the time. I have struggles with dyscalculia, and the thought of teaching them higher math makes me extremely uneasy. But if that is what needs to be done, I will find a way.
The bottom line is that deeply personal events brought me to my knees to figure out what I could do better for my kids. We've heard differing opinions on whether we should or should not homeschool our kids, but it finally came down to Hubster and I feeling like this is what we are supposed to be doing, and then doing our best to do a good job of it. I can only hope my kids will have a much better experience than I did, and I feel more and more confident that my choice to shield them from the world will help them with the things that matter most. My job is to protect them as long as I reasonably can and do everything in my power to help them set and realize their goals and dreams.
And believe it or not, that's the short version! LOL
Fifth grade was a new life, a second chance at having a good education. How blessed my family was and is, to be friends with both the Director of the lab school, and one of it's best teachers. Now that I think about it, it really is remarkable that the three families that were closest to my grandparents were full of truly talented educators. I don't know how it all went down for sure, but one of the families had a daughter who was becoming a teacher, she was the one who administered the reading test to me as part of her course work. The other two women took care of getting me in the school, and even made sure I had transportation to and from school, since we lived a little hike from town. The school it's self was a learning lab for the students at the college who were training to become teachers. It's simpler to call it a private school, but, that sounds stuffy and privileged. We weren't poor, but my life was not one of privilege. If not for the efforts of my grandparents friends, I would have had no choice but to continue on in public school. This thing they did for us was a blessing beyond measure.
So I started the fifth grade with another round of testing. They figured I could read and comprehend most anything they threw at me now. At some point they made a video of me and a classmate demonstrating our ability to read and regurgitate, like we were some kind of circus act. They managed to make me feel a little bit special and a little more normal and tried to give me a glimpse of what could be possible. The school encouraged students to work at their own pace, and most of the kids that attended were very bright and hardworking. It was something else to be with peers who were above average, it was nice to have it be OK to be smart. And yet, fitting in socially was still elusive for me.
I don't know how I looked on the outside to people, but I was a mess on the inside. I'm pretty sure I spent more time in the councilor's office than the other kids combined. Somewhere along the way, despite the supreme effort of teachers who really cared about me, I lost the thirst for knowledge. What I really wanted, was to fit in, have friends, and not be the butt of people's jokes anymore. School just wasn't fun, it wasn't work, it was just a meaningless time suck punctuated by occasional after school activities that helped keep me from going off the deep end. We still lived on the ranch, and I would awake at four thirty am to complete chores and ride to town with my dad so that he could be at work by 7. After school, I made my way to his office and we rode home at about 7. My sister's accident was followed by my grandfather's illness and I juggled a lot at home. I felt the weight of responsibility around my neck and I resented that it made me even more different.
I was in the seventh grade when I told my family that I didn't want to go to college. I told them I'd change my mind if they'd let me take college classes in place of at least some high school course work. I knew it could be done because the kid I sat next to in typing class took college classes when he was in the ninth grade. I think the push to just hurry up and get childhood over with began around that time. I felt powerless in so many ways, defeated and worn out from wanting to be good, and never quite living up to my potential. In fact, I was sick of hearing about my potential.
The lab school didn't offer high school, so I re-entered the public school system. I had been good at cheerleading, and was encouraged to try out, but just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do it. I heard you had to pay for the camps and uniforms, and arranging transportation for after practices and games meant negotiations with dad. I figured, "Why bother?" I was just putting in my time so I could get out. Somewhere, I stopped being the gangly girl with the pug nose and became the girl with the small boobs and the great butt. It attracted a few boys, and I picked one. I figured he'd probably use me and dump me, but he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was 15 at the time and the idea that someone thought more of me than I thought of myself put me over the moon. He was a year older than I and when I was a junior in high school, I asked my parents to let me become emancipated. I didn't intend to marry him right then, I just wanted, needed, some kind of space. I wasn't raised to live with someone out of wedlock, but it would provide a means of survival, I was past caring what people, including my family, thought about me. When they turned me down, I planned a wedding date two weeks after my high school graduation. I turned down being the hometown rodeo queen and concentrated on the freedom that I could almost taste.
Brandi wondered what all this has to do with why I chose to homeschool. To me, it has everything to do with why I homeschool. I came a hair's breath away from screwing up my life beyond all recognition. I didn't love my highschool sweetheart. I loved that he loved me. It took all of 18 months after I graduated and got married to figure out that I could love myself and was worthy of a more suitable mate. I was married, divorced and remarried by the time I turned 21. When I remarried, it was to a man 18 years older than I who had three kids. It was sheer dumb luck and the love of God that I got an incredible husband who really did see through all the crazy, weird behavior, took a gamble on whether or not I'd grow into a decent wife, and gently began the process of helping me understand and gain self worth. My parents and grandparents did everything they could, but they couldn't overcome the feelings of shame, hopelessness and self-loathing that were planted there by my peers.
Academics played a big roll in my desire to homeschool, I figured I certainly couldn't do worse than the two room school house, and if I paid close attention to their individual needs, I could probably do a darn sight better. Socialization played a big roll as well. Socialization is one of the biggest concerns people seem to have about homeschooling, and quite honestly, it's probably the biggest reason I got passionate about it. I want to pick my kids' friends for a while. I want to make sure they look up to people worthy of their respect. I want to help them navigate their social interactions until they have a better idea of who they are and what they believe. I want them to be able to focus on school work while they mature socially, whether that pace is slower or faster than other children their age. I don't want their self worth tied up in whether or not they get picked for dodgeball, or who sits next to them at lunch. When I had my kids, I knew I could never send them to daycare. There wasn't anyone in this world who could love them more or nurture them better than I could. When it came time for school, I knew that nothing had changed. No one cares about their education and their socialization more than I do. When I first brought it up with Hubster, he wasn't completely on board, but he wasn't sold on the alternatives either. Finally, the more we talked and prayed and researched it, we knew it was what we were supposed to do.
I have found myself scared to death that I will screw this up. I worry that my kids will be "the weird kids". The first year, I worried over my ability to teach them what they need to know. But the farther along this path we go, the more success we have under our belt and the more confidence we gain to keep going. So far, both kids have learned to read and write, do addition and subtraction, read time, count money, measure things, and they have the bug, the itch to learn more. They hate it when history time is over and they often don't even realize I'm giving them a science lesson. They just like spending time with mom and dad and playing together. We're starting 1st and 2nd grades this year. They play well with other kids, in the neighborhood, at church, at community sponsored sporting events, and at homeschool functions. We don't plan on homeschooling through high school, but even that depends on what we feel is right at the time. I have struggles with dyscalculia, and the thought of teaching them higher math makes me extremely uneasy. But if that is what needs to be done, I will find a way.
The bottom line is that deeply personal events brought me to my knees to figure out what I could do better for my kids. We've heard differing opinions on whether we should or should not homeschool our kids, but it finally came down to Hubster and I feeling like this is what we are supposed to be doing, and then doing our best to do a good job of it. I can only hope my kids will have a much better experience than I did, and I feel more and more confident that my choice to shield them from the world will help them with the things that matter most. My job is to protect them as long as I reasonably can and do everything in my power to help them set and realize their goals and dreams.
And believe it or not, that's the short version! LOL
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Why Homeschool. Part One.
Chris from Notes From the Trenches has started another blog over here, and I'm not sure why she has two, but I do know I can't get enough Chris. Today she talked some about her homeschool, which I was so glad to read since, even after stalking all her old posts until her site meter flagged me as a potential serial killer, I haven't seen much about how she does things, why she chose homeschooling, what a homeschool day is like in the Big Yellow House. Hmmm. Maybe she'd give me an interview! LOL Anyhow, after I visited Kacey's blog and read about her grandson, I got to thinking I really should put down on "paper" why I picked homeschooling. My kids may someday want to know why I turned them into social lepers chose to school them at home.
Just so everyone is clear right up front; To each their own. Whatever school you dig is dandy with me. The main thing I've noticed is that people usually have a strong opinion about homeschooling, and that's cool, but if you can't be supportive, you can keep it to yourself around this neck of the woods. I'm not trying to convince people that public schools are evil or tell people they aren't being great parents if they don't homeschool, I'm just going to tell you how I, (we, really) feel and felt to make this choice for our family.
I didn't decide to homeschool on a whim. The thought never even crossed my mind until we moved to the great state of TX. The older three have done fine with public schools and I've done my share of parent teacher conferences, wrapping paper fundraising and crazy back to school supply lists. When we moved to TX, our kids did notice that the classes seemed easier, but they didn't complain and life went on. When we moved here, we also started to hear about more and more homeschooling families. Droves of them. Back home, if you were homeschooled, you were a freaky-folk. But I had to admit that the more I thought about sending my cute little kiddos off on that big yellow bus, I thought more and more about my own school experience and I started to think that there had to be a better alternative. So settle in and I'll tell you my tale. I'll start my story by taking you down the path of my education.
School started for me at a young age, I must have been three or four, because I attended two years at a religious pre-school. The thing I remember most about pre-school was graham crackers with milk, the smell of my nap rug and how being around the nuns made me feel like I had swallowed my tongue. I remember being picked up from school when it was dark outside and how I loved to memorize the streets from school to Grandma G's, the bank, the store and home.
I went on to Kindergarten, and I remember the day I decided to learn to read. I was watching Ripley's believe it or Not or some similar show and they showed a child who was four and could read. I was sick about it. I was already past four, and I couldn't read. So I bugged my mom. She says she wouldn't teach me because she didn't want me to be too far ahead of my class. I remember reading signs to her on the way to and from school. Grandma says she thought Mom was talking crazy talk, but I remember her giving me the Dick and Jane book, reading a few pages with me and going into the other room. Within a few hours, I had made it through, and from that day on, I could read. And read I did. I was voracious right from the start.
We moved before I started first grade, and the first day of school, I boarded the little yellow bus bound for the two room school house that served our ranch community. It started the moment I boarded the bus. There were two boys who were in fifth and sixth grade. They called me ski jump, owing to the upturned, button nose that sits in the middle of my face. I couldn't stand it. I had no idea why they would treat me like that, and I remember wishing I was invisible. At school, my class was the largest. There were four first graders, and they were all girls. I don't even remember if there were second graders in our class room, I think there were, and the third to sixth grades were taught in the second classroom.
My teacher was outstanding, one of the best in the district. Tests were taken each year, and I know mom told me that she was given the option of moving me up a grade, but declined because she was worried that I'd miss something I'd need later. The only difference I noticed in the class room was that I sometimes got extra work, and I ALWAYS got poor marks in behavior. Those little boxes at the bottom that graded area's like, "Uses Time Wisely", "Works Well With Others" and "Controls Talking" could be marked for area's worthy of special note were filled with the "Needs Improvement" check mark every.single.time. Grades given were E or E+, S or S+ and U. E=Excellent, S=Satisfactory, and U...well, you get the idea. I thought I deserved an E on everything. I did what I was supposed to, and I was always done first. School for me was like being reminded of things I already knew.
But as much as I excelled in the classroom, I paid for it on the playground. Remember that this is a country school. It doesn't take as long to teach when the teacher to student ratio is 1:6. These were the days of school recess. The teachers talked, the kids played, and the bullies reigned supreme. In this day and age the schools employ "Playground Monitors", but not so at the two room school house. I don't think I made it out of the first week of school when the three girls in my class held my arms back and used my stomach as a punching bag. It's not that it hurt so much, as I just couldn't believe what was happening. I don't remember when, or even who I told, but I remember my mom trying to teach me to hit pillows in hopes I could defend myself, and any other times I complained, it was explained to me that I acted like a know-it-all and that's why the other kids picked on me. Now to be fair to all parties involved, I probably was a know-it-all. After all, I pretty much did, know.it.all. At least where first to third grade was concerned. I probably was a brat, and I had no idea how to be liked, and really, in the scheme of things, that was all I wanted, to be liked. Well, to be liked and be the best, at everything.
Despite the social problems, I had an amazing grade school experience that included afternoons peering over the bridge at the river while we ate our picnic lunches, building snow caves and spending endless hours sledding down snow covered hills, school sponsored weekly ski trips (I ALWAYS ditched ski school after the second year...Sorry dad!) even a real Indian Rendevoux where we got to bead our own moccasins, make coup sticks and sleep in two real, full size, tee pee's. We climbed the rope everyday during our "unofficial PE", and used the mats to make mazes during recess. We had mud bomb wars and got our library books brought to us on the BookMobile. Our PE and Music teachers came once a week, and since I could memorize anything, I was always given the lead role in the school play. The good parts were very, very good. Unfortunately, the bad parts grew worse and worse with the passage of time, and my self-esteem was tossed like a dingy on the sea. Up with one kind word or success, down with every playground snub and awkward moment.
I couldn't tell you for sure when things came completely undone, but I know everyone around me recognized it when I yelled at the music teacher and crawled under my chair. I scared myself that day. I never had an easy time dealing with authority. I couldn't give words to the feelings I felt, so I got frustrated and cried, or lied, but I had never yelled. My reading was tested and it was "discovered" that I could read and comprehend high school level material. I was tutored for reading in the room with the older kids, but my parents knew they had to make big changes. At the prompting of a family friend, they enrolled me in the Lab School at the University and I began attending there in the fifth grade.
Just so everyone is clear right up front; To each their own. Whatever school you dig is dandy with me. The main thing I've noticed is that people usually have a strong opinion about homeschooling, and that's cool, but if you can't be supportive, you can keep it to yourself around this neck of the woods. I'm not trying to convince people that public schools are evil or tell people they aren't being great parents if they don't homeschool, I'm just going to tell you how I, (we, really) feel and felt to make this choice for our family.
I didn't decide to homeschool on a whim. The thought never even crossed my mind until we moved to the great state of TX. The older three have done fine with public schools and I've done my share of parent teacher conferences, wrapping paper fundraising and crazy back to school supply lists. When we moved to TX, our kids did notice that the classes seemed easier, but they didn't complain and life went on. When we moved here, we also started to hear about more and more homeschooling families. Droves of them. Back home, if you were homeschooled, you were a freaky-folk. But I had to admit that the more I thought about sending my cute little kiddos off on that big yellow bus, I thought more and more about my own school experience and I started to think that there had to be a better alternative. So settle in and I'll tell you my tale. I'll start my story by taking you down the path of my education.
School started for me at a young age, I must have been three or four, because I attended two years at a religious pre-school. The thing I remember most about pre-school was graham crackers with milk, the smell of my nap rug and how being around the nuns made me feel like I had swallowed my tongue. I remember being picked up from school when it was dark outside and how I loved to memorize the streets from school to Grandma G's, the bank, the store and home.
I went on to Kindergarten, and I remember the day I decided to learn to read. I was watching Ripley's believe it or Not or some similar show and they showed a child who was four and could read. I was sick about it. I was already past four, and I couldn't read. So I bugged my mom. She says she wouldn't teach me because she didn't want me to be too far ahead of my class. I remember reading signs to her on the way to and from school. Grandma says she thought Mom was talking crazy talk, but I remember her giving me the Dick and Jane book, reading a few pages with me and going into the other room. Within a few hours, I had made it through, and from that day on, I could read. And read I did. I was voracious right from the start.
We moved before I started first grade, and the first day of school, I boarded the little yellow bus bound for the two room school house that served our ranch community. It started the moment I boarded the bus. There were two boys who were in fifth and sixth grade. They called me ski jump, owing to the upturned, button nose that sits in the middle of my face. I couldn't stand it. I had no idea why they would treat me like that, and I remember wishing I was invisible. At school, my class was the largest. There were four first graders, and they were all girls. I don't even remember if there were second graders in our class room, I think there were, and the third to sixth grades were taught in the second classroom.
My teacher was outstanding, one of the best in the district. Tests were taken each year, and I know mom told me that she was given the option of moving me up a grade, but declined because she was worried that I'd miss something I'd need later. The only difference I noticed in the class room was that I sometimes got extra work, and I ALWAYS got poor marks in behavior. Those little boxes at the bottom that graded area's like, "Uses Time Wisely", "Works Well With Others" and "Controls Talking" could be marked for area's worthy of special note were filled with the "Needs Improvement" check mark every.single.time. Grades given were E or E+, S or S+ and U. E=Excellent, S=Satisfactory, and U...well, you get the idea. I thought I deserved an E on everything. I did what I was supposed to, and I was always done first. School for me was like being reminded of things I already knew.
But as much as I excelled in the classroom, I paid for it on the playground. Remember that this is a country school. It doesn't take as long to teach when the teacher to student ratio is 1:6. These were the days of school recess. The teachers talked, the kids played, and the bullies reigned supreme. In this day and age the schools employ "Playground Monitors", but not so at the two room school house. I don't think I made it out of the first week of school when the three girls in my class held my arms back and used my stomach as a punching bag. It's not that it hurt so much, as I just couldn't believe what was happening. I don't remember when, or even who I told, but I remember my mom trying to teach me to hit pillows in hopes I could defend myself, and any other times I complained, it was explained to me that I acted like a know-it-all and that's why the other kids picked on me. Now to be fair to all parties involved, I probably was a know-it-all. After all, I pretty much did, know.it.all. At least where first to third grade was concerned. I probably was a brat, and I had no idea how to be liked, and really, in the scheme of things, that was all I wanted, to be liked. Well, to be liked and be the best, at everything.
Despite the social problems, I had an amazing grade school experience that included afternoons peering over the bridge at the river while we ate our picnic lunches, building snow caves and spending endless hours sledding down snow covered hills, school sponsored weekly ski trips (I ALWAYS ditched ski school after the second year...Sorry dad!) even a real Indian Rendevoux where we got to bead our own moccasins, make coup sticks and sleep in two real, full size, tee pee's. We climbed the rope everyday during our "unofficial PE", and used the mats to make mazes during recess. We had mud bomb wars and got our library books brought to us on the BookMobile. Our PE and Music teachers came once a week, and since I could memorize anything, I was always given the lead role in the school play. The good parts were very, very good. Unfortunately, the bad parts grew worse and worse with the passage of time, and my self-esteem was tossed like a dingy on the sea. Up with one kind word or success, down with every playground snub and awkward moment.
I couldn't tell you for sure when things came completely undone, but I know everyone around me recognized it when I yelled at the music teacher and crawled under my chair. I scared myself that day. I never had an easy time dealing with authority. I couldn't give words to the feelings I felt, so I got frustrated and cried, or lied, but I had never yelled. My reading was tested and it was "discovered" that I could read and comprehend high school level material. I was tutored for reading in the room with the older kids, but my parents knew they had to make big changes. At the prompting of a family friend, they enrolled me in the Lab School at the University and I began attending there in the fifth grade.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Wiring 101 1/2
So I installed a new light fixture in my kitchen today! I have to admit, I didn't accomplish this feat all by myself this time. Due to some, shall we say, CREATIVE wiring in this house, I had to call on a friend from church with a little more experience than I have. Wiring a three way switch is actually a pretty advanced electrical task. Not hard, per say, but it requires more thought than, "black to black, white to white and ground to ground". The problem came about because some genius decided to provide power to the dishwasher through the light fixture. No WONDER the light flickers when you turn on the dishwasher. Hmmmmm. So with the help of Handyman Bob, we finally got the light to work, and turn on and off at the flick of a switch, (and not the breaker switch in the garage, like I had it before Handyman Bob came to my rescue), and the dishwasher to run and NOT turn on and off with the flick of a switch. All this and we didn't burn the house down or electrocute anyone! And the biggest award of the day has to go to Handyman Bob's wife, who somehow convinced J that drawing bunny rabbits was more fun than cheating death at the top of mommy's ladder.
Also, since I'm sure I didn't mention it, B and Hubster are on a four wheeling adventure with Grandpa and my perfect BIL so K and J and I are on our own doing girl stuff and trying to keep our minds off missing our boys. We went to the mall yesterday, and today, we bought a car and went swimming. Can't afford very many days like that, can we Hubster? Prolly ought to come home pretty soon! LOL Hubster and I have been needing to buy a car for his commute and he TOLD me to go drive the one I found and get them to hold it. So I bought it. What? It's the only way I could get him to hold it.
I seriously hope this turns out to be a good car, if not, I am SO never hearing the end of it. It's a 1996 Nissan Maxima, it has 122,000 miles on it and it drove better than the 98 I found with 74,000 miles on it. You know how sometimes you can just tell a car is a good car? Well. I can tell. Hubster is being very nice about it. He started to either tease me or get mad, but, sensing that I've been a woman on the edge for a looooong time, he told me he was sure the car would work out. I so needed to hear that. I don't feel like I squeezed every dime I should have out of the salesman. Going over how that went down makes me want to breath into a paper bag. I hate, hate, hate car shopping. Funny. Seeing as how I SOLD cars for four years, you wouldn't think that it would bother me at all.
And finally, I heard from dad that my mom's dog died today. I felt bad she didn't tell me when I called to get dad's cell number to ask his advice on the wiring project, so I hope she reads the bloggy tonight and feels a little better reading my goofy stories and seeing pics of her beautiful grand daughters. *Hug* Sorry about Suki, Mom.
Also, since I'm sure I didn't mention it, B and Hubster are on a four wheeling adventure with Grandpa and my perfect BIL so K and J and I are on our own doing girl stuff and trying to keep our minds off missing our boys. We went to the mall yesterday, and today, we bought a car and went swimming. Can't afford very many days like that, can we Hubster? Prolly ought to come home pretty soon! LOL Hubster and I have been needing to buy a car for his commute and he TOLD me to go drive the one I found and get them to hold it. So I bought it. What? It's the only way I could get him to hold it.
I seriously hope this turns out to be a good car, if not, I am SO never hearing the end of it. It's a 1996 Nissan Maxima, it has 122,000 miles on it and it drove better than the 98 I found with 74,000 miles on it. You know how sometimes you can just tell a car is a good car? Well. I can tell. Hubster is being very nice about it. He started to either tease me or get mad, but, sensing that I've been a woman on the edge for a looooong time, he told me he was sure the car would work out. I so needed to hear that. I don't feel like I squeezed every dime I should have out of the salesman. Going over how that went down makes me want to breath into a paper bag. I hate, hate, hate car shopping. Funny. Seeing as how I SOLD cars for four years, you wouldn't think that it would bother me at all.
And finally, I heard from dad that my mom's dog died today. I felt bad she didn't tell me when I called to get dad's cell number to ask his advice on the wiring project, so I hope she reads the bloggy tonight and feels a little better reading my goofy stories and seeing pics of her beautiful grand daughters. *Hug* Sorry about Suki, Mom.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Mom of All Trades Blasts Off
Over at To Love, Honor and Dismay, there is a post just like what I've been thinking about on my Blog Draft page thingy, only, his is well written and organized rather than all, ranty and rambling. Honestly, the process of raising teenagers and their leaving home is as profoundly changing as becoming a mother in the first place.
What sent me into outer orbit was the second poster's comment regarding their teen and pre-teen dating at ages 12 and 13. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I'm further astounded by the comment "...but what can you do? You gotta let'em grow up". For starters, you can tell them NO.
Whatever happened to parental responsibility? Are people so blind that they think they can raise healthy, well adjusted human beings by giving them everything they want? In what warped reality are pre-teens able to handle the pressures of dating when older teenagers and adults barely manage to get out alive?
Most people who read my blog know that I belong to the very conservative Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It's not for everyone, and I'm cool with that, but I do think that all parents would be well served to consider postponing dating privileges until children are better equipped to handle the responsibility. For those who may not know, the Church guidelines for dating are as follows: "“When you get in the teen-age years, your social associations should still be general acquaintance with both boys and girls. Any dating or pairing off in social contacts should be postponed until at least the age of 16 or older, and even then there should be much judgment used."
A Time for Every Purpose
Paul H. Dunn, " Time for Every Purpose," Ensign, May 1975, 61.
Now, I wasn't raised with this faith, but my parents used the "No dating until 16" rule while I was growing up. Did I like it? Sadly, no, I did not. Do I see the wisdom in that rule now? Absolutely.
I think the thing that incenses me the most about this person's comments is the fact that they aren't alone and the fact that there are plenty o' parents out there who think that early and pre-teen dating is perfectly acceptable. Is it any wonder that we still have teenagers getting pregnant? Dating moves forward, not backward, folks. Once you get over the thrill of holding hands with a boy, the next logical thrill is kissing, then on to making out, and once you've started, you don't go back to hand holding. These things have a natural time-line, once your passions wake up, you are on the countdown to the big payoff. Who in their right mind would let their kid start down that road at such a tender age?
The commenter concedes that "its scary as heck"; I should say so, and I don't think they even know the half of it. Around age 14 or 15, I overheard a conversation between two boys who's sole goal at the time was to lose their virginity before they turned 12. Even then, I was shocked. I was even more shocked when I heard that the boy must've come close to realizing his goal; his girlfriend had his baby when they were 13. That girl never even saw it coming. That boy was going to obtain his goal, and neither one of them were anywhere close to being able to handle what they'd done. These were kids from good families, who's parents did everything they could to provide their kids with all the things they never had. I'll bet anything those parents were "scared as heck" too.
If we don't teach our kids that there is a proper order to life, and we encourage them to be "mini adults" at earlier and earlier ages, we are surely setting our kids up for a lifetime of heartache. I'd much rather have my kids hate me for a few years because I took the time and effort to enforce boundaries to keep them safe, than for them to spend a miserable life wishing that I had not been such a good friend when they needed me to be a parent. Some kids are easier to get along with on stuff like this than others, but if parents everywhere were more on the same page, I feel like it would make EVERYONE's job a whole lot easier.
Parent's allowing dating at 12 and 13. What is this world coming to?
What sent me into outer orbit was the second poster's comment regarding their teen and pre-teen dating at ages 12 and 13. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I'm further astounded by the comment "...but what can you do? You gotta let'em grow up". For starters, you can tell them NO.
Whatever happened to parental responsibility? Are people so blind that they think they can raise healthy, well adjusted human beings by giving them everything they want? In what warped reality are pre-teens able to handle the pressures of dating when older teenagers and adults barely manage to get out alive?
Most people who read my blog know that I belong to the very conservative Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It's not for everyone, and I'm cool with that, but I do think that all parents would be well served to consider postponing dating privileges until children are better equipped to handle the responsibility. For those who may not know, the Church guidelines for dating are as follows: "“When you get in the teen-age years, your social associations should still be general acquaintance with both boys and girls. Any dating or pairing off in social contacts should be postponed until at least the age of 16 or older, and even then there should be much judgment used."
A Time for Every Purpose
Paul H. Dunn, " Time for Every Purpose," Ensign, May 1975, 61.
Now, I wasn't raised with this faith, but my parents used the "No dating until 16" rule while I was growing up. Did I like it? Sadly, no, I did not. Do I see the wisdom in that rule now? Absolutely.
I think the thing that incenses me the most about this person's comments is the fact that they aren't alone and the fact that there are plenty o' parents out there who think that early and pre-teen dating is perfectly acceptable. Is it any wonder that we still have teenagers getting pregnant? Dating moves forward, not backward, folks. Once you get over the thrill of holding hands with a boy, the next logical thrill is kissing, then on to making out, and once you've started, you don't go back to hand holding. These things have a natural time-line, once your passions wake up, you are on the countdown to the big payoff. Who in their right mind would let their kid start down that road at such a tender age?
The commenter concedes that "its scary as heck"; I should say so, and I don't think they even know the half of it. Around age 14 or 15, I overheard a conversation between two boys who's sole goal at the time was to lose their virginity before they turned 12. Even then, I was shocked. I was even more shocked when I heard that the boy must've come close to realizing his goal; his girlfriend had his baby when they were 13. That girl never even saw it coming. That boy was going to obtain his goal, and neither one of them were anywhere close to being able to handle what they'd done. These were kids from good families, who's parents did everything they could to provide their kids with all the things they never had. I'll bet anything those parents were "scared as heck" too.
If we don't teach our kids that there is a proper order to life, and we encourage them to be "mini adults" at earlier and earlier ages, we are surely setting our kids up for a lifetime of heartache. I'd much rather have my kids hate me for a few years because I took the time and effort to enforce boundaries to keep them safe, than for them to spend a miserable life wishing that I had not been such a good friend when they needed me to be a parent. Some kids are easier to get along with on stuff like this than others, but if parents everywhere were more on the same page, I feel like it would make EVERYONE's job a whole lot easier.
Parent's allowing dating at 12 and 13. What is this world coming to?
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Hair
Sometimes, it's fun to be the fun mom.
B: "Mom, can I cut my hair?"
Me: "Sure, son!"
B: "Can you get me some scissors?"
Me: "I'll do better than that! How about my clippers?!"
B: "Cool!"
(Isn't K cute, peeking out from the mirror?)
Not to, um....horrible! LOL
Yes, I did go back and fix it all, and I suppose putting the clipper attachment on there to prevent the worst of the damage *is* technically cheating, but, he's none the wiser.
And here's a little shot of the after church hair we have going on over here. The pigtails are pointless, and silly looking, but the after church hair is soooooo worth it! ;O)
B: "Mom, can I cut my hair?"
Me: "Sure, son!"
B: "Can you get me some scissors?"
Me: "I'll do better than that! How about my clippers?!"
B: "Cool!"
(Isn't K cute, peeking out from the mirror?)
Not to, um....horrible! LOL
Yes, I did go back and fix it all, and I suppose putting the clipper attachment on there to prevent the worst of the damage *is* technically cheating, but, he's none the wiser.
And here's a little shot of the after church hair we have going on over here. The pigtails are pointless, and silly looking, but the after church hair is soooooo worth it! ;O)
Friday, July 28, 2006
Needs
So all my much cooler bloggy friends are doing the thing where you google your name to find out what you need, so here I am, following along and posting my top ten:
Jennifer needs a smack daddy. Me thinks daddy is the one who needs a smack right now...
Jennifer needs heavy visual depiction of her subject. The better to ensure that the rock I'm about to throw, finds it's mark.
Jennifer needs a cold shower. Yes, but not for traditional reasons of one needing a cold shower.
Jennifer needs Your Help. Yes, that goes without saying.
Jennifer needs to post. I'm on it.
Jennifer needs to slap Abby. If I could find her, I just might do that.
Jennifer needs to be in a mental health facility right now. There might be some truth in that...
Jennifer needs flatware. Oooooh, have I ever told you about my flatware addiction? No? Ohhhhhh. How much time have you got?
Jennifer needs to do five things. Only five?! Holy Cow! I wish someone would have told me this sooner!
Jennifer needs to be a (not very nice female person). I'll make sure and tell Hubster I'm only being that way because Google said so.
Jennifer needs a smack daddy. Me thinks daddy is the one who needs a smack right now...
Jennifer needs heavy visual depiction of her subject. The better to ensure that the rock I'm about to throw, finds it's mark.
Jennifer needs a cold shower. Yes, but not for traditional reasons of one needing a cold shower.
Jennifer needs Your Help. Yes, that goes without saying.
Jennifer needs to post. I'm on it.
Jennifer needs to slap Abby. If I could find her, I just might do that.
Jennifer needs to be in a mental health facility right now. There might be some truth in that...
Jennifer needs flatware. Oooooh, have I ever told you about my flatware addiction? No? Ohhhhhh. How much time have you got?
Jennifer needs to do five things. Only five?! Holy Cow! I wish someone would have told me this sooner!
Jennifer needs to be a (not very nice female person). I'll make sure and tell Hubster I'm only being that way because Google said so.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
What's Weird
Know what's weird around here today? I'll tell you.
We've been "budget conscious" for so long, I feel guilty for window shopping.
After a night of horrendous pain following self-inflicted toe nail surgery, my toe hurts less now than it did before. I thought I'd have to suffer at least a couple days.
Multi colored mini marshmallows will stain upholstery when chewed up and spit out.
My SD, D, likes me, BECAUSE I don't let her do everything she wants. What's weirder, is that she TOLD me that.
If you walk into the edge of a door in the middle of the night, you can't keep your tongue off the fat lip it gives you.
Chickens that produce so many eggs you have to give them away, will immediately stop laying eggs the minute you go on a diet that uses a lot of eggs.
The time the trash men come is directly relative to your ability to remember to take the trash to the curb. If you forget, they'll be there bright and early. If you remember, they won't show until after 6 pm.
The mail carrier works on the same laws as the trash men.
The more you hate a movie or cartoon, the more your kids like it.
That's all I have for now. Check out my new little award over in my sidebar! Thanks Mary! Even though it turns out I'm not as interesting as you originally thought, I appreciate the kudos!
We've been "budget conscious" for so long, I feel guilty for window shopping.
After a night of horrendous pain following self-inflicted toe nail surgery, my toe hurts less now than it did before. I thought I'd have to suffer at least a couple days.
Multi colored mini marshmallows will stain upholstery when chewed up and spit out.
My SD, D, likes me, BECAUSE I don't let her do everything she wants. What's weirder, is that she TOLD me that.
If you walk into the edge of a door in the middle of the night, you can't keep your tongue off the fat lip it gives you.
Chickens that produce so many eggs you have to give them away, will immediately stop laying eggs the minute you go on a diet that uses a lot of eggs.
The time the trash men come is directly relative to your ability to remember to take the trash to the curb. If you forget, they'll be there bright and early. If you remember, they won't show until after 6 pm.
The mail carrier works on the same laws as the trash men.
The more you hate a movie or cartoon, the more your kids like it.
That's all I have for now. Check out my new little award over in my sidebar! Thanks Mary! Even though it turns out I'm not as interesting as you originally thought, I appreciate the kudos!
Monday, July 24, 2006
It *IS* Sandal Season, After All...
My toenail is ingrown. Horribly, horribly ingrown, sore, and generally yucky. Attempted remedies could make up a blog all on their own. But after I applied my waterproof NexCare bandage, I found that I just couldn't leave well enough alone. Bloggable? Yes? No? *shrug* I think this may be a new all time low in the history of blogging.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
To The Nice Man At Lowes
Thank you so much for taking the time to discuss my woefully inadequate kitchen light fixture and explaining the process of installing recessed lighting. I'm leaning toward your original suggestion of installing a larger florescent fixture. Now, let me give you a little piece of advice: Yes, we bonded over light fixtures, yes, I know, it *is* exciting to talk to a girl who knows her way around a two way switch, but the "little one" isn't due, ever, ever again, and you are the worlds biggest %$#@@%#$^ for suggesting it. You made me cry, and as a result, my hubster now has snot on his shirt. Which I must now go wash. If we learn nothing from this blog, people, learn this: Never, Ever, EVER ask someone when she is due or anything resembling that question unless you already know the answer.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Thursday Thoughts
I've been working hard on regaining some semblence of my pre-babies body. I started with weights and lots and lots and lots of ab work. I'm making some progress, two steps forward, one bowl of ice cream back, but I digress.
Lately, I've been using DVR to record Fit TV workouts (since my pilates dvd went missing). I found All Star Workout and I've liked that there is something new everyday, but I do find some workout's are better than others. Take the Belly Dancing one from today. Things started out, well, OK, since there's no way I can roll my belly and have it look like anything other than a big roll of pasty white jello, I skipped that part. So we moved on to hip drops. OK. I've been known to shake a little booty in my day. After the instructor showed us the booty shake, she showed us a step sequence called, the "grapevine", I only fell once, so it was cool. Then we had to shake the booty AND do the grapevine. Since hubster is working out of town today, I decided against personal injury and skipped that part. She moved on to some hip circles and something called the "egyptian", and I watched. Somewhere between the "basic" and the final hip roll, I found myself lounging on the couch with a perplexed look on my face and I decided that maybe belly dancing wasn't a viable option for me as a workout program.
K has been sounding like she's 6 going on 16 lately.
Me: 6+4 eqaaaaallllssss?
K: 10! It's 10! B, hush up, I know, cuz I used ALL MY FINGERS!
****
B: I didn't save my money for Sonic! I want to buy a game!
K: I'm not spending *MY* money, that's mostly mine for a GAME. I.am.not.gonna.do.it.
(Wonder where she learned to talk like that?)
****
And now we're off to spend the rest of the afternoon at my friend's pool. Yeahy for friends with pools during 105 degree days!
Lately, I've been using DVR to record Fit TV workouts (since my pilates dvd went missing). I found All Star Workout and I've liked that there is something new everyday, but I do find some workout's are better than others. Take the Belly Dancing one from today. Things started out, well, OK, since there's no way I can roll my belly and have it look like anything other than a big roll of pasty white jello, I skipped that part. So we moved on to hip drops. OK. I've been known to shake a little booty in my day. After the instructor showed us the booty shake, she showed us a step sequence called, the "grapevine", I only fell once, so it was cool. Then we had to shake the booty AND do the grapevine. Since hubster is working out of town today, I decided against personal injury and skipped that part. She moved on to some hip circles and something called the "egyptian", and I watched. Somewhere between the "basic" and the final hip roll, I found myself lounging on the couch with a perplexed look on my face and I decided that maybe belly dancing wasn't a viable option for me as a workout program.
K has been sounding like she's 6 going on 16 lately.
Me: 6+4 eqaaaaallllssss?
K: 10! It's 10! B, hush up, I know, cuz I used ALL MY FINGERS!
****
B: I didn't save my money for Sonic! I want to buy a game!
K: I'm not spending *MY* money, that's mostly mine for a GAME. I.am.not.gonna.do.it.
(Wonder where she learned to talk like that?)
****
And now we're off to spend the rest of the afternoon at my friend's pool. Yeahy for friends with pools during 105 degree days!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Love and Hate at the Local Library
Love- Row after row of books.
Hate- Grumpy Librarians. You'd think they'd at least like kids a *little bit*, but no.
Love- That you can take home as many as your heart desires.
Hate- When the kids beg to take home Sponge Bob Squarepants videos instead of something...I don't know...book-ish.
Love- Browsing the covers of books for hours.
Hate- Hearing the shrieking of my two year old as she protests her stroller confinement.
Hate Even More- Hearing the shrieking of my seven year old because my two year old BIT him whilst he attempted to school her on Library etiquette. You know, basics, like, don't run, don't scream and don't tear all the books off the shelves and throw them at other patrons.
Love- Picking out new adventure filled pages to introduce my children to the world of literature.
Hate- Computers on child size tables, in the picture book section...
Love- Summer Reading Club.
Love Even More- All the cool stuff we got for DOING Summer Reading Club.
Hate- That our Library doesn't put a sticker with the due date on the books anymore...They give you a list.
Hate Even More- That they still have to put a sticker in the book over the theft protection device. This sticker serves no purpose other than tempting little fingers to peel it off, meaning that not a week goes by that we don't announce our entry to the library by setting off the alarm. At least print the due date on the damn thing so when I notice it, stuck to the bottom of my foot, as I sit on the toilet, I have some idea of whether the books need to go back this week or next.
Love- Having a place to let the childrenrun wild quietly entertain themselves during 100+ degree weather.
Hate- Having to leave the books I look at on the end of the row to be *counted* instead of putting them right back where I found them.
Love- That, for once, someone else has to pick up all the books my kids get out.
Hate-Leaving.
Love- That we get to do it all over again next week.
Hate- Grumpy Librarians. You'd think they'd at least like kids a *little bit*, but no.
Love- That you can take home as many as your heart desires.
Hate- When the kids beg to take home Sponge Bob Squarepants videos instead of something...I don't know...book-ish.
Love- Browsing the covers of books for hours.
Hate- Hearing the shrieking of my two year old as she protests her stroller confinement.
Hate Even More- Hearing the shrieking of my seven year old because my two year old BIT him whilst he attempted to school her on Library etiquette. You know, basics, like, don't run, don't scream and don't tear all the books off the shelves and throw them at other patrons.
Love- Picking out new adventure filled pages to introduce my children to the world of literature.
Hate- Computers on child size tables, in the picture book section...
Love- Summer Reading Club.
Love Even More- All the cool stuff we got for DOING Summer Reading Club.
Hate- That our Library doesn't put a sticker with the due date on the books anymore...They give you a list.
Hate Even More- That they still have to put a sticker in the book over the theft protection device. This sticker serves no purpose other than tempting little fingers to peel it off, meaning that not a week goes by that we don't announce our entry to the library by setting off the alarm. At least print the due date on the damn thing so when I notice it, stuck to the bottom of my foot, as I sit on the toilet, I have some idea of whether the books need to go back this week or next.
Love- Having a place to let the children
Hate- Having to leave the books I look at on the end of the row to be *counted* instead of putting them right back where I found them.
Love- That, for once, someone else has to pick up all the books my kids get out.
Hate-Leaving.
Love- That we get to do it all over again next week.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Pink Drink
What Texas lacks in the cherry department, it's made up for with an abundance of watermelons. I'm pretty sure there's a name for this, it's a recipe with Mexican origin, I believe. We love it because it's so fruity and refreshing on a sweltering summer night.
Watermelon, only use seedless. Cube it up and chuck it in the blender, fill almost full. Add enough cold water to fill blender halfway. Add about 1/2 cup of sugar, more or less according to taste, then cram ice cubes in the blender until you can barely get the lid on. Hold the lid on tight and pulverize the whole thing for about 30 seconds.
Make more.
And then make some more.
And if you have a larger than average family, just keep making until you run out of watermelons.
Enjoy!
Watermelon, only use seedless. Cube it up and chuck it in the blender, fill almost full. Add enough cold water to fill blender halfway. Add about 1/2 cup of sugar, more or less according to taste, then cram ice cubes in the blender until you can barely get the lid on. Hold the lid on tight and pulverize the whole thing for about 30 seconds.
Make more.
And then make some more.
And if you have a larger than average family, just keep making until you run out of watermelons.
Enjoy!
Monday, July 10, 2006
Discussing My Addiction
Gabriela pointed out this weekend that I might be a little bit addicted to the internet. While discussing with Hubster what we want to do when D graduates from HS, the thought of sending my husband to medical school in Belize came up. My first thought was: "I can live anywhere as long as they have a good, fast internet connection." Not, "I wonder if they have good schools and decent sanitation", nope, I'm worried about my download/upload speed. Go ahead and laugh if you want Gabs, but considering everything I've done on-line already this morning, a world without internet would mean some serious withdrawls for me. Here's what I do "in front of the computer all day":
Check bank balance
Pay bills
Locate at least three phone numbers for Hubster
Check the cattle prices
Register for Hubster's seminar
Check Library to see if my book is in yet
check Little League site for fall registration
Add homeschool books to my shopping carts (gotta order those soon)
check cell phone account for usage estimate
get CLEP test dates and costs
And of course, I've checked my email which is how D got me a picture of her new duvet cover for her room
and now Blogger.
And yes, Blogger is a huge time sink. Instead of tidying up the breakfast, OK, make that the weekend dishes (including the dishes from last night's peach ice cream-making-session), I am writing to you now. I have errands to run, a yard to attend, chickens to feed, children to teach, a shower to take, a house to clean and meals to cook, and still I type. And then I check my bloggy girlfriends' sites. And then I comment. And then I check back later to see if there are more comments, or a new post. If I didn't have the excuse that this is my journal, I'd have to feel pretty guilty about blogging!
But just think of all that time I saved paying bills, looking things up, buying things and signing up for things on line! That has to be the counter balance, right?! That's what I'm telling Hubster. He'll understand why the house is trashed, the laundry isn't done, and dinner came out of a can, right? At least I don't have a suitcase full of shoes to explain, like SOME people we know! LOL
Check bank balance
Pay bills
Locate at least three phone numbers for Hubster
Check the cattle prices
Register for Hubster's seminar
Check Library to see if my book is in yet
check Little League site for fall registration
Add homeschool books to my shopping carts (gotta order those soon)
check cell phone account for usage estimate
get CLEP test dates and costs
And of course, I've checked my email which is how D got me a picture of her new duvet cover for her room
and now Blogger.
And yes, Blogger is a huge time sink. Instead of tidying up the breakfast, OK, make that the weekend dishes (including the dishes from last night's peach ice cream-making-session), I am writing to you now. I have errands to run, a yard to attend, chickens to feed, children to teach, a shower to take, a house to clean and meals to cook, and still I type. And then I check my bloggy girlfriends' sites. And then I comment. And then I check back later to see if there are more comments, or a new post. If I didn't have the excuse that this is my journal, I'd have to feel pretty guilty about blogging!
But just think of all that time I saved paying bills, looking things up, buying things and signing up for things on line! That has to be the counter balance, right?! That's what I'm telling Hubster. He'll understand why the house is trashed, the laundry isn't done, and dinner came out of a can, right? At least I don't have a suitcase full of shoes to explain, like SOME people we know! LOL
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
The Burning Question on My MInd
I really ought to start taking my camera to the grocery store. My blog would be much more interesting that way. Did you KNOW that Oscar Meyer puts out hot dogs that are individually wrapped (in the box) that are already in BUNS? They call them some thing like, "Easy Dogs". Has any one seen these? Or is it just Texans that are too lazy to heat AND assemble a hot dog? For heaven's sake, J can almost accomplish this task on her own, and she's not even two yet! In fact, I went to their website to obtain a picture of this product just to show you, and there ISN'T ONE! I am laughing, laughing, laughing about the fact that they have this "new" product and there is no mention of it anywhere on their website! They are dumb enough to *make* such a product, but not silly enough to let anyone know that they do. That's just one of those things that makes me go "Hmmmmmmm."
(Remember that song?)
During my outing, I also made a couple observations.
I don't think I will ever master the art of the messy ponytail. There was a very pretty brunette girl at the store who had on hip, cute, clothes, and a perfectly shaped messy ponytail. You've seen them, they have the "tail" part right in the middle of their heads, and the top is artfully arranged so it looks like it's ALMOST about to fall out, and yet, never does. It kind of looks...square...almost. I've seen the look before on my nieces, and they look absolutely fabulous. I try it, and I look like Ashlee Simpson after she went through the car wash in a convertible.
Blondes with big fake boobs, big, badly colored hair do's attract enough attention without ignoring their advanced age and wearing belly shirts. Unfortunatly, this fact is lost on many of them. One woman closely resembling the above remark, was flirting with one of the bagger boys. He looked more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Poor kid couldn't get rid of her fast enough.
I do love to watch people.
But after all my self commentated people watching, I exited the store and caught a glimpse of myself in the glass. I'm telling you, someone REALLY ought to lock up all my husbands oversized t-shirts and gym shorts, make me put on a little makeup once in a while and paint my toenails. And a shower couldn't hurt. If I saw myself in the store like that, I'd be telling myself, "Self, that poor woman needs to get.a.grip. Man, has she looked in a mirror lately? What on earth possessed her to think that get up was acceptable for schlepping around town?"
In my defense I did not have on pajama bottoms and slippers. Which means that at least once or twice, I have looked worse.
Why are comfortable, cotton, loose fitting articles of clothing so good at making us look so bad?
(Remember that song?)
During my outing, I also made a couple observations.
I don't think I will ever master the art of the messy ponytail. There was a very pretty brunette girl at the store who had on hip, cute, clothes, and a perfectly shaped messy ponytail. You've seen them, they have the "tail" part right in the middle of their heads, and the top is artfully arranged so it looks like it's ALMOST about to fall out, and yet, never does. It kind of looks...square...almost. I've seen the look before on my nieces, and they look absolutely fabulous. I try it, and I look like Ashlee Simpson after she went through the car wash in a convertible.
Blondes with big fake boobs, big, badly colored hair do's attract enough attention without ignoring their advanced age and wearing belly shirts. Unfortunatly, this fact is lost on many of them. One woman closely resembling the above remark, was flirting with one of the bagger boys. He looked more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Poor kid couldn't get rid of her fast enough.
I do love to watch people.
But after all my self commentated people watching, I exited the store and caught a glimpse of myself in the glass. I'm telling you, someone REALLY ought to lock up all my husbands oversized t-shirts and gym shorts, make me put on a little makeup once in a while and paint my toenails. And a shower couldn't hurt. If I saw myself in the store like that, I'd be telling myself, "Self, that poor woman needs to get.a.grip. Man, has she looked in a mirror lately? What on earth possessed her to think that get up was acceptable for schlepping around town?"
In my defense I did not have on pajama bottoms and slippers. Which means that at least once or twice, I have looked worse.
Why are comfortable, cotton, loose fitting articles of clothing so good at making us look so bad?
Monday, July 03, 2006
Refiner's Fire
I received this as an e-mail a couple of years back, and due to the circumstances in life as I know it in the past couple years, I've referred to it often. It makes me bawl like a baby whenever I read it, so, you're on your own for further discussion. Big cyber hug to all my girlies and blog readin' fam.
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." (Malachi 3:3) This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silver smith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot--then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silver smith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silver smith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"
He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy--when I see my image in it."
If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you.
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." (Malachi 3:3) This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silver smith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot--then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silver smith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silver smith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"
He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy--when I see my image in it."
If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Why We Will Not be Potty Training Any Time Soon:
"Hey J! Wanna put on a Pull Up Today?"
"Um...J?..."
"This is not going exactly as I had planned..."
"I'm a big kid now!"
I give up.
"Um...J?..."
"This is not going exactly as I had planned..."
"I'm a big kid now!"
I give up.
Calling All T Family Members!
Guess what usually costs $6 per pound and was on sale today for $1.49 per pound?
Yup!
For all my bloggy friends, my Grandma G used to can cherries and they were *THE* after dinner treat when you went to Grandma G's house to spend the night. My Dad ate more than his fair share of these babies while growing up! It's really very simple, just cherries in some light syrup, but oh, so good! All you Utah girls probably have at least one neighbor with a nice big tree full in the back yard, but down here, cherries are hard to come by and usually very expensive. I've never seen this good a price in the whole time we've been here! My Grandma G was kind enough to write out her method for me, she says "41-42# yields about 30 quarts". Talk about needing a loan! So I did my measly 10# tonight and I'll treasure every bite in my 5 quarts thank-you-very-much!
Yum! Now let's get down to business. Boiling the jars:
Jars with clean, de-stemmed cherries, waiting for syrup:
Water bath:
Finished jars! Eeek! Hard water, wipe those jars off with a little vinegar to clear the spots!
Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing
If any of you would like to join me for a bowl of cherries, I have extra beds, but as you can see, there are only 5 quarts, you'll need to hurry and make your reservation today!
Yup!
For all my bloggy friends, my Grandma G used to can cherries and they were *THE* after dinner treat when you went to Grandma G's house to spend the night. My Dad ate more than his fair share of these babies while growing up! It's really very simple, just cherries in some light syrup, but oh, so good! All you Utah girls probably have at least one neighbor with a nice big tree full in the back yard, but down here, cherries are hard to come by and usually very expensive. I've never seen this good a price in the whole time we've been here! My Grandma G was kind enough to write out her method for me, she says "41-42# yields about 30 quarts". Talk about needing a loan! So I did my measly 10# tonight and I'll treasure every bite in my 5 quarts thank-you-very-much!
Yum! Now let's get down to business. Boiling the jars:
Jars with clean, de-stemmed cherries, waiting for syrup:
Water bath:
Finished jars! Eeek! Hard water, wipe those jars off with a little vinegar to clear the spots!
Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing
If any of you would like to join me for a bowl of cherries, I have extra beds, but as you can see, there are only 5 quarts, you'll need to hurry and make your reservation today!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
